#zerobaseone taerae

[globaloppaaa]

Hey! Can you please do "babysitting with zb1"?

i love this idea!! got started on it as soon as you sent it! thank you for requesting bb, and as always if anyone wants to request more my inbox is currently open! might need some time as school is beginning for me again.

w/a: literally the smallest hint of suggestive theme of u squint to the point that your eye are just closed.

for hanbin, I don’t wanna say that this man has no flaws… but he really knows how to take care of younger siblings so any child is no problem at all. Heck, he’s probably taking care of you too. He’s got a lot of experience with taking care of others that it comes like second nature to him. Leaves you little notes of encouragement around the house when things start to get too stressful :))

jiwoong is doing your job for you at this point lol. Probably the most calm when one child throws a bit of a temper tantrum. His soft voice when he communicates to them can naturally bring a smile right back to their face. I feel like taking care of younger siblings pose no challenge to him whatsoever, I mean they’re just like mini versions of you two! Maybe he’s starting to get his head stuck in the clouds with the whole “mini you” idea…

If you’ve seen zb1 taking care of those twins on youtube you know well that hao does NOT know how to take care of children well. you’re lowkey 🤏 close to kicking him out with the way he talks back to the kid as if they’re both five years old. however watching the way you’re able to calm the child down really takes him by surprise, and he finds himself more willing to learn how you take care of them so well, while ultimately keeping both him and the kids under control too.

matthew tries so hard to be the best good cop of a babysitter he can be, though sometimes he forgets that bounderies and lessons do need to be learned! is the kind of babysitter that melts at the sight of the child’s puppy eyes and gives in to whatever scheming they may have up their sleeve. next thing you know there’s paint splattered on every surface but the ones paint is supposed to be on. “how could i resist?!” he says, giving u a pout while he attempts to remove the smear on his cheek, and honestly it’s hard for you to resist when he looks at you that way too.

you can bet taerae is singing those kids one hell’ of a lullaby every night WHEWWW. We all know how soothing his voice is, perfect for stormy nights or when’s there’s still a bit too much excitement past curfew. He’s definitely more of a practical kind of babysitter if that makes sense though. “Why do they play with rocks and twigs when the big screen tv is right there?” 🙄🤷🏻 Kinda guy. I will say that you and taerae are especially good keeping kids entertained. They adore his energy and humor and all the little skits he’ll put on. Babysitting with him leaves everyone smiling.

ricky is so elegant with it 😭😭 I don’t think you’ve ever heard him raise his voice because the children just obey without question. It’s almost strange lol. You two work as a great team! You make up the rules (because he likes listening to you too ☺️) and he’s the official communicator of said rules. Babysitting never feels stressful with him. His one downfall is that he will buy the kid(s) anything at anytime, and then he’ll buy YOU anything you want at anytime. He just wants you all to be happy what can he say?

gyuvin is surprisingly very good at babysitting when given instructions, knows what food is healthy and chewable, can easily make them fall asleep at curfew, and ensure the kids always keep a smile on their face. it’s hard to believe that when you run to the store, forgetting one item that all hell breaks loose. “i don’t know what to do when you’re gone.” he winces, in what looks like the most uncomfortable pose of defeat on the floor, the children jumping atop him in victory.

gunwook For sure knows what a child’s needs are, but learns all the details and the in-betweens from you! Definitely gets affected by cuteness aggression so sometimes it can be hard for him to concentrate, and then if YOU’RE there? Great, that’s a whole other distraction he’s gotta try and fail to ignore. Gunwook makes babysitting feel like a normal part of life rather than any kind of chore or job. He’s a bit head over heels on the idea of having his own family some day, and just maybeee he’s thinking about having it with you. 🤭

yujin i’m sorry but you’re practically taking care of him too. I’m not saying this because i think he’s a “baby”, but because he’s so socially awkward with the kids he can’t even hold eye contact lmao. For example, one of them might start to throw a tantrum out of the blue, and yujin’s solution involves him standing there watching like 🧍🏻😟. He’ll most likely start shouting your name for assistance… he really is trying his best! I think Yujin likes to let you lead with the babysitting, while also giving him a front row seat at admiring you being so passionate about making others happy and well cared for.

[wintergeneration]

　 ⢚㇣㇣♫‧̥ ᰯ Mania De Você ( 𝟣𝟫𝟩𝟫 ) ⠀ 👛 Ꮺ୧ ˚ ﹒⠀

💬 ̼̻ ̥ 𓏶 ‧ ̥˚ 🪽 ⃜ #07˳

✿ ᝓ ⠀𔒮 She Is An Angel ͏͏͏ ༜𑜞𑇓࿐۫

͏ ͏ٝ 🧼 ͟ ͟ ͟⬚͒

Kissing The Clouds Below ့ ◌๋ ❀ ˚

𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝗎𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌, 𝗅𝗎𝗇𝖺 . 💿

[arafilez]

19:42 ㅤㅤㅤ☆ ㅤ —﹙ k.tr ﹚

WHEN ㅤ,ㅤ you wish to surprise taerae !

ㅤㅤ ᶻzㅤ( x fem!reader ) 𓂃 ㅤ fluff estb. rl. ㅤ timestampㅤ warnings kissing ㅤ⋆ ( 455 wc ) ㅤ❟❟ㅤ library ㅤ zb1 shelfㅤ navi

The air fills with Taerae’s soft strums on his guitar as he plays a song he had recently written. You halt at the doorway, eyes training on his back as you watch him with a lovesick smile on your face.

Maybe it is the dim lights, his bare face with his usual glasses, his deep, melodic voice, or possibly everything else that makes you stare at him like a whipped teen with her first crush.

When Taerae’s shirt shifts a little as he adjusts the guitar you get a weird idea in your mind, giggling softly and then slapping yourself lightly for being so head over heels for him.

Slowly sneaking behind him you stand for a while, basking in the scent that is so him, before you sneak an arm around his waist earning a surprised gasp from him. You giggle softly seeing a red hue cover his ears as he says, “When did you get here?”

“A while ago,” you murmur as you nuzzle your face in his neck and press a feather-light kiss on his neck. You feel Taerae stiffening, lightly tripping on his words before his composure is back and he laughs.

The deep laugh vibrates off his body into yours as he says, “This is new, anything good happened?” You shake your head against his shoulder and quickly peck his neck again before he can talk more. Taerae hums visibly unfazed by your second attack as you stare at him with narrow eyes.

You peck him again and again, all over his neck knowing he can’t keep up his unflustered state for long but as you are going in for the seventh peck Taerae turns his head and presses his lips to yours taking you by surprise.

Your eyes widen as you blink, unable to kiss back and Taerae’s lips are gone as soon as they come. A smirk slowly makes its way into his face as he grins, his cavernous dimples glistening in the low lights. You feel flustered at his stare as he asks, “So when exactly were you back?”

You blink at him, brain not comprehending what he asked and Taerae bites back a smile as he sees you. Intertwining his fingers with yours, a small breath leaves your throat as you reply finally, “A while back.”

“Okay, good,” he hums as he pulls you into his lap, resting the guitar on his other leg and says, “Then I get to kiss you all I want.” Your face heats up and you slap his chest lightly making him grin, “What? You were having fun kissing my neck just a while back!”

“Shut up,” you groan and he smiles saying, “I will,” and presses his lips to yours.

ARA'S NOTES ㅤ,ㅤ blame @slytherinshua fully 'cause she planted this taerae neck kiss seed in me by sending me a gunwook clip !

ㅤㅤ ᶻzㅤ( TAGLIST ) 𓂃ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added.

@slytherinshua @sxmmerberries @haecien

@aaa-sia @haneagerr @yeosayang

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

[oracle-of-dream]

Submissive and huh?

Minors DNI

Summary: Your friend Taerae recently learned a new term and wants your thoughts. Explaining it might help him understand properly, but do you have the strength to tell him.

Warnings: Male Reader, Idol Taerae, Student Reader, Lewd faces/Ahegao, Mention of arousal and breeding

Wordcount: 1.2k

Math classes had been kicking your ass all semester and tutoring from the professor wasn't working out. You'd ended up being assigned a study partner. The program was meant for students struggling with the class to help each other. That's how you met Taerae. 

He didn't originally introduce himself as an idol, especially since it was an online class. No one had seen his face. But when you met up with him for the first time to study together, you instantly recognized him from TV. You hit it off over a shared hate for math and spent more time together outside class.

He'd complain about his idol life issues and you'd give him any notes from class he'd missed.

You'd just gotten home from a late-night study session at the library. As if it knew, your phone lit up with a text as you sat on your bed.

TR: Yo! Y/N, I met some fans while out with the members today!

YN: Cool. Don't you meet fans wherever you go?

TR: Well these stuck out!

YN: How?

TR: Well, I noticed them, a bunch of guys, giggling in the convenience store and pointing at me and Hao while we were shopping. I didn't want to embarrass them so I just played it cool and ignored them. But then they came up to me!

YN: Okay, some brave fans? That's it?

TR: Just wait a sec! 

TR: They came to me and told me they were fans. But more specifically, MY fans! Of course, I was happy to hear, but they were foreigners because they used a term I didn’t know.

YN: What term?

TR: Submissive and Breedable?

TR: I know what submissive means, they mean I'm not an aggressive person. That's not entirely true, but I'm submissive at times.

You looked at your phone, blinking a few times. Some "fans" dared to say that!?

TR: I can't find anything when I look it up, it's probably slang, right?

Maybe telling him that his fans want to breed him wasn't the best thing to tell your friend. He was just too wholesome for that.

YN: Yeah, it is, but it's not something cool. No one says it really, it's not the trend anymore.

TR: Really? I know trends, I'm not old, but I haven’t heard of that.

YN: See? There's no reason to worry, just fans being weird.

TR: Well, the photo they wanted was also...off.

YN: Off how?

TR: They wanted me to stick my tongue out and look up at the camera, which was super high above me. To be honest–it felt a little embarrassing to pose like that.

You shook your head trying not to imagine his cute self making lewd faces for a group of boys, but it was hard. And so were you.

YN: You should be more careful, they could use photos like that weirdly.

TR: What do you mean?

YN: Let's drop it. Subject change, what are you doing now?

TR: I'm getting ready for bed, I just got under the covers.

You looked at the clock, midnight was on its face.

YN: Oh shit, I didn't even realize. You should sleep!

TR: No, no, I'm pretty awake. Plus, it's nice talking to you. Did you want to video call while you get ready for bed?

You’d done it before, talking on video call into the night, but it was always a little like Taerae just wanted to see you.

YN: Sure, I'll call you.

You pressed the video call button on your phone. It showed your reflection as you waited, automatically you straightened your hair a little and kicked some stuff on the floor out of frame.

Taerae answered the phone with a smile, the camera close to his face.

You laughed as you set your phone on your desk, "Well hello to you too, why so close?"

"No reason, I just want to see you closely."

"Well, I can see you so closely I can count your pores," You scoffed as you went into your closet to find pajamas for the night.

"Is it weird I'm holding it so close?"

"A little, but it's no big deal. If you don't wanna show yourself then why'd you wanna video call?"

Taerae didn't answer.

"Are you still thinking about what those guys said?"

He shuffled in bed, "Mmhm."

"I promise it's nothing bad."

"Then why don't you just tell me?"

You sighed, "Okay, fine, I'll spill."

Taerae's eyes peered curiously at the camera as he waited for you to come out of your closet. You settled on wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt and shorts. You returned to find Taerae's eyes filled with impatience.

You swallowed awkwardly, "You already know what the submissive part means, but the other part..."

"Breedable," Taerae reminded you.

"Yeah–It means," You struggled to find a good way to break it to him with that look in his eyes. So full of trust and purity. "It means, they wanna do it with you."

Taerae's expression dropped into surprise, "Oh, that's it? I read about that kind of stuff of fans wanting me to have sex with them. That's not so bad."

"Well, breedable means, specifically where you'd be the one getting fucked. Likely by a man. Who wants to... finish in you."

You couldn't bring yourself to look at the screen to see his expression. He'd fallen silent, thinking of a response. It felt like ten minutes passed until he broke the silence.

Taerae's voice was deep and serious, "Y/n."

"Yeah?"

"Look at the screen." You looked at the screen to see Taerae in bed, holding the camera above him to show off his shirtless torso that was mostly covered by the bed sheet except for his collarbone and neck. "Am I breedable right now?"

You felt warm in your face as you answered, "Yeah, I-I guess."

"Submissive, too?"

"Sure," You said as you looked down at your hands.

"Yes or no! Sure isn't good enough, and look at me!"

You complied, looking at him. He smiled before making a face; his eyes looking up at the camera as he stuck out his tongue and held up a peace sign with his other hand.

"Jesus, Taerae!" You looked away quickly. Your heart was in your ears, pounding as the image of sweet Taerae's lewd face was plastered behind your eyelids.

He laughed loudly. "I am, aren't I? Submissive and breedable. I take it as a compliment, they like me that much! To be honest, you look all shy... You look a little submissive too."

You moved your phone so he couldn't see you anymore.

"I was kidding! Don't hide from me!" Taerae's muffled voice shouted from the speaker of your phone. 

After you calmed down, you turned your phone back over to see him still there. Still shirtless, and holding his phone at the same seductive angle.

"You're so weird!" You yelled at Taerae, who just giggled.

"And you still like me anyway. Even with all my breedable energy."

"I'm going to hang up–"

"What!? We gotta see you do the pose too, what if you're more breedable than me, we should test how–"

You cut him off as you pressed the red dial button. You turned your phone off before he could call you again. You lay in bed, alone in the dark, thinking about Taerae's face.

And in the privacy of your home, you test if you can also feel submissive and breedable, making Taerae's new iconic look. A secret he'll never know about... As if you didn't already have a big secret.

[blue-jisungs]

video games

# author's note … i like to think that im scary while gaming (i literally never join the vc bc im too scared)

# summary … taerae isnt scared of you. exception: you when gaming.

# warnings … cursing,, sm cursing ... yn can come across as toxic but idek lmfao; crack n fluff !

# word count … 546

“can you like, shut the fuck up? i didn’t order a yappucino”

there weren’t a lot of things of which taerae was scared of, and he took pride in that. however, this was something he was terrified of.

“get your shit together, man! why does our support do more damage than you? that’s ridiculous!” you growled into the mic.

you gaming.

your boyfriend entered the room, hand resting on the cold doorknob.

he noticed you sitting on your gamer chair, leg bouncing up and down in an anxious manner. ot wasn’t necessarily due to anxiety right now, you just often did that subconsciously when you were gaming. and especially when the game was intense, the impact from your moving leg would shake the desk and knock over your figurines.

“now you’re calling me a bitch?”

taerae gulped and slowly entered the room. the purple led lights captured your focused features and he adored your side profile before deciding to chime in.

just when he reached his hand out to tap your shoulder, you leaned away on the chair with a groan.

“thanks for the cover, i really appreciate that” your voice was dripping with sarcasm.

your eyes snapped up and you noticed taerae.

you were scary like this: extremely focused, words sharper than a knife. and rightfully so, taerae knew the gaming environment. but you could be really mean – he knew that if he was a stranger online hearing you, he’d cry on spot.

but upon seeing his face, your features dramatically changed in a split second. your eyes widened and a huge smile bloomed on your face.

muting yourself, you reached your arms out and made grabby hands.

“baby!” you whined and taerae hugged you, the rough material of your headset brushing his cheek. he heard faint sounds coming from it “how was your day?”

your voice was sweet, nothing compared to the tone you used to diss your teammates.

“it was good! i just missed you tons” he hummed, leaning away to adore your face. suddenly there was a switch and your brows furrowed. while he started another sentence, you leaned to unmute.

“how long have you been–”

“mind your own business, dickhead. and so what if i am? guess what? i also did that with your mom”

taerae snorted. despite your scary appearance, your comebacks were quite funny. you sent him a proud smile and the sounds of your keyboard clicking echoed through the room.

“yadda, yadda, yadda. do you ever shut up?” you grunted into the mic and left the game because it was the last round and you were dead already “yeah, no you. speaking of which, my boyfriend says hi. say hi!”

taerae frowned and leaned closer into the mic.

“get a life, it’s just a game” he mumbled and saw your wide smile.

with that, you left the voice chat as well. putting down your headset, you rose to your feet and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“that was good, how did you know he was being mean?” you hummed, titling your head.

taerae scoffed, amused.

“a wild guess” he grinned and leaned in to kiss you, a soft sigh of relief leaving your lips.

as much as he loves you, he’d never play video games with you.

masterlist <3

taglist. @slytherinshua ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @haecien ,, @stryroses

[pandacherryblossoms]

~🌊🩵Sexting With ZB1🩵🌊~

Smut/Request

18+MDNI

Content Warnings:

Explicit sexual content / smut | Dom/sub dynamics | Dirty talk / sexting | Power imbalance themes | Mild degradation / praise kink | Exhibitionism / public teasing (implied) | Mentions of restraint (tying hands, pinning wrists) | Orgasm control / denial | Choking (consensual, implied) | Possessiveness | Sexting AU

Hanbin

Jiwoong

Zhang Hao

Seok Matthew

Taerae

Ricky

Gyuvin

Gunwook

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

taedros taedros

part two: taedros twodros ☆ part three: taedros tresdros**NEW wc: 2k reader: femme afab warnings: MINORS DNI EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ -- porn with plot, oral f!receiving, swearing, calling tae a virgin loser as a joke, mentioning the weeknd LMAO summary: loserbestfriend!taerae makes you watch the idol on hbo max with him for movie night, but a certain convertible scene sparks your "curiosity" more than the others... and taerae proves he might not be such a loser after all. :0 omg who am i?? i even wrote in all lower case letters in the fic to throw you off... i know you'll know right away though but that's not the point lmao!! i just didn't think i should be this horny for taerae on main so. here's the dedicated zb1 smut blog no one was asking for (except me. i was asking for it so let me live.) thank you to taerae for posting these pics next to each other and ruining my life. also the idol sucks and sam levinson and the weeknd are horrific for creating it. i only know some scenes from it because i watch comedy commentary videos about it. jennie is beautiful tho love her. ALSO i thought of this title and i cried laughing. mwahaha okay thanks for reading byeeeee

“this is the worst show I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say with a laugh, throwing a piece of popcorn in your mouth. “i can’t believe we’ve made it through two episodes already.”

🚨 SMUT BELOW CUT -- MINORS DNI -- 18+ 🚨

taerae sighs, “i think i’m gonna need to bleach my eyes.”

“throw some in my ears while you’re at it,” you joke, letting a leg drape over your best friend’s. you’re crammed together in the bottom bunk of his dorm room bed, watching the idol on the tv that’s hung at the foot of it. “i will never, ever be able to unhear the weeknd whispering, ‘stretch that tiny little pussy for me’. and every single day i will beg the lord for mercy.”

“are we sure we wanna watch the third episode?” taerae asks, shifting a bit next to you. “this show is so graphic.”

“of course the virgin wants to chicken out,” you tease, smacking his stomach with a pillow. he grabs it from you and leaves it there. “you’re the one who wanted to watch it! now you wanna quit two episodes in? not gonna happen. we can make it through this.”

if you hadn’t pressed play at that exact moment, you would’ve heard taerae gulp beside you. 

the intro of the show plays, assaulting your eyes with an up-close and personal view of jocelyn’s bare chest. what else is new? you yawn, hoping the third episode’s graphic scenes (at the very least) won’t be repetitive. bitch has put on a blindfold to end both episodes so far...

sitting with your back leaning against the wall, you try to steal a glance at taerae. his upper back is propped up on his pillow as he lies perpendicular to you, facing the tv screen. you watch his eyes, catching the subtle dilation of his pupils. it could be the light from the television in the otherwise dark room shifting their size, but you find yourself curious nonetheless.

“do you think she’s pretty?” you ask suddenly.

taerae coughs. “me? do i think the actress is pretty?”

you nod, eyes returning to the screen in hopes that the lack of eye contact will make taerae feel comfortable enough to give you an answer.

“she’s pretty, yeah,” he says after a moment. 

“like, you’re attracted to her?” you clarify, throwing another piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“uh,” he hesitates and you feel his legs tense up under yours. “i guess. i mean she’s not really my type, but--.”

“but you like her tits.”

“exactly,” taerae agrees too quickly. “wait, no--.”

“no need to walk it back,” you cut him off with a snort. “boobs are hot. end of story.”

taerae sits up a bit more, seemingly trying to relax after your probing. you didn’t talk to taerae about sex or girls all that much, but you’d be lying if you said the show hadn’t suddenly made you a bit curious. what experience did your lovable loser of a best friend have-- if any at all?

the interrogatory questions you’re suddenly wanting to ask are thrown from your brain, however, as the show now cuts to a shot of the weeknd (you and taerae refuse to call him tedros tedros) and jocelyn in the back of a convertible-- their poor assistant driving these two insufferable cretins down the freeway.

nothing’s out of the ordinary until jocelyn crawls from her seat and lifts one leg to straddle the weeknd. she’s in a slinky tangerine bodysuit and little black shorts and the weeknd’s hands easily envelope her waist. you roll your eyes, already having grown so sick of these two. 

but when jocelyn is suddenly pushed to the edge of the seat, her back against the car door and her head resting on the frame-- your attention is piqued. the weeknd wraps his hands around her thighs, prying them apart so he can pull her shorts to the side just enough to fit his tongue. the actress’s head lolls back over the car door frame; her blonde hair dangling over the side and flowing in the wind. her face is screwed up in absolute bliss and the sounds coming out of her confirm her state.

would she really be screaming like that just from his tongue?

“um,” you hear taerae say and you look over at him curiously. “if-- if he’s good with it, then yeah. she would be, i guess.”

you frown. what was he talking about? if he’s good with what? ... oh fuck, you think as you realize that you’d accidentally said your previous thought out loud. and now poor taerae is stumbling to give you an answer.

what did he say? if he’s good with it then she would be.

“huh,” you mumble, your brow furrowing as you ponder his answer.

you turn back to the tv, but taerae clears his throat. “what?”

“what? what do you mean, what?”

“why did you say ‘huh’ like that?” he asks, the pillow on his stomach rustling as he shifts slightly. “do you not agree or something?”

“oh, uh,” you stutter as you feel your cheeks start to heat, not sure what to say. “um, i guess i wouldn’t know.”

the silence from taerae is deafening as your eyes stay locked on the tv. you’re not sure why you said that. you could’ve just lied. you should’ve just lied.

“are you a virgin?” taerae asks softly. the accusation whips your head around to stare at him angrily and his eyes widen cautiously.

“obviously not,” you answer in a huff. “i just... i’ve never...”

you look down at your lap, picking at the skin on your fingers. you should stop while you can. you don’t need to tell the truth. why are you even considering telling him this?

“no one’s ever gone down on me or anything.”

“oh,” taerae manages to respond after a long moment, but you can’t even look at him.

“yeah.”

another moment of silence. “you shouldn’t be, like, embarrassed by that. that’s... that’s entirely their fault for not prioritizing you, you know?”

your bottom lip tucks between your teeth, the aforementioned embarrassment flushing your skin as you nod. the show is still playing, but you can only hear garbled sounds. why did you tell him that!? now taerae has to awkwardly comfort you when you could’ve just shut your mouth in the first place. you didn’t really talk about these kinds of things with taerae. your best friend was there for movie nights, chinese food binges, laughing until you cry, and most importantly taking the absolute piss out of... 

and here you were making him uncomfortable by randomly talking about your oral virginity.

“would you want me to do it?”

taerae’s voice is so quiet that you’re positive for a moment that you hallucinated it. you look over at your best friend tentatively to find his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping his pillow to his stomach. 

“what?”

taerae blinks nervously. “if you wanted to, you know, try it... i could--.”

“WHAT!?” you shout; hands grabbing the pillow on taerae’s stomach and throwing it across the room. “are you-- are you fucking joking!? you think i’m desperate enough to ask my best friend to eat me out?”

“no, no, no,” taerae respond quickly, hands flying up in defense. “not at all!”

“then what?” you ask, jaw setting in anger as you wait for a good enough answer to keep you from punching him in the balls.

taerae’s lips form the slightest pout. “you seemed really curious about it. i just... i just thought i’d offer.”

you bite your lip as you think. “what do you even know about that kind of thing? I thought you were a virgin loser.”

“ouch,” taerae says but quickly shrugs it off. “i guess you’re only right about half of that statement.”

you frown. even though you’d never talked about it before, was taerae secretly experienced? more experienced than you?

“you don’t have to say yes though,” he adds quickly. “i’m sorry; i probably shouldn’t have said any--.”

“okay,” you cut him off softly.

taerae’s eyes widen in surprise. “okay?”

you nod slowly. “i don’t believe you that you’re not a virgin loser, but if you’re offering...”

taerae sits up, leaning on his hands as a little smirk lights up his face. “i’ll eat you out and then you can eat those words. how does that sound?”

the way your heat flutters at his words catches you off guard. so does the way he swiftly flips you onto your back as you take the position he was just in.

“whoah,” you exhale, your best friend absolutely knocking the wind out of you as he positions himself between your thighs. he takes the hem of your shorts in his fingers, eyebrows raising at you expectantly. you lift up your hips enough for him to shimmy them off, discarding them on the floor without taking his eyes off your still-clothed center.

you glance at your underwear, panic immediately hitting you when you realize you wore the only clean pair that you had left...

a black, lace thong.

they were the only pair left, because you honestly hadn’t had a reason to wear them in a little while.

“fuck,” taerae curses, hands wrapped around the outsides of your thighs. “were you going somewhere after this or...?”

“if you don’t shut your mouth, i’ll be going somewhere before this,” you threaten, but the words come out shakier than you would’ve liked as taerae begins to plant open-mouthed kisses up your thighs. “... ‘s laundry day tomorrow.”

“mm, I see,” he replies, shifting his weight to one hand so he can bring his right hand to your heat. your heart rate rises as he moves towards where you’re quickly growing to need his attention most. two fingers press at your clothed-core gently and the sound of the tv in the background does nothing to dampen the moan that escapes you from just the small amount of pressure.

“laundry day’s coming just in time i think,��� taerae says, a smirk highlighting his cavernous dimples in a light you’ve never seen before. “from the way you’re soaking through these.”

“shut up,” you groan, bringing your hands up to cover your face. taerae hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, tugging at them playfully to get your attention. peeking out through your fingers, you glare at him.

“do you want to stop?” he asks, removing his hands quickly. “we can stop if you want to or need to or anything.”

you reach down and grab both of his hands in yours, reattaching them to your underwear. “please keep going.”

he blinks at you for a moment before nodding, pulling your thong down your legs as you lift your hips up for him. taerae lies down fully in between your thighs now, guitar-string calloused hands wrapping around your thighs and guiding them to rest on his shoulders. 

“so pretty,” he whispers. eyes focusing on your throbbing cunt, taerae’s grip on your legs gets a little tighter-- a little more desperate. “really.”

“thanks,” you respond shyly, watching as a bit of steam begins to coat the rim of taerae’s glasses. you can’t help but smile as you reach for them, carefully removing the frames and placing them on the stand next to his bed. 

“thanks,” he echoes. 

“i’m still not convinced that you aren’t a-- oh fuck...” just as you’re about to tease your loser of a best friend again, his tongue finds your core and licks a long stripe up from your opening to your clit. taerae exhales a laugh against your pussy, tongue circling your clit as his hands now take hold of your hips.

“wait, what the fuck?” you whine breathlessly as he works you over with his mouth. “tae, i thought... oh my god.”

“taste so good, baby,” taerae moans like he’s enjoying it just as much as you are. he slips a finger in your entrance carefully, stretching you until he deems you ready for a second. “Think this pussy might be perfect.”

his eyes are closed; eating at you like you’re his favorite meal. it’s hot. way hotter than the scene from the show. way hotter than anything on that stupid show-- in which another sex scene is playing on the screen behind taerae. you suddenly feel so much pity for jocelyn; one of the hardest characters in history to pity. but the fact that there’s no way tedros fucking tedros is eating her out as good as taerae’s eating you out right now is tugging at your heart strings.

“tae,” you whimper, feeling the knot in the pit of your stomach begin to tighten. your hand tangling up in his hair at the nape of his neck causes him to moan into you and the vibration only makes you tug harder. “please, please wanna cum.”

“already? you sure?” he says, disappointment coating his voice. “could eat this pussy all night.”

“holy shit,” you exhale. you didn’t even know taerae was capable of talking like this. the only time he ever said pussy around you was if he was calling you one. now as he looks up at you from between your thighs, his pretty dimpled-smile covered in your juices as he continues to fuck you with his fingers and press his thumb against your clit...

you’re nodding frantically now. “please, please tae. make me cum.”

“fuck, baby, okay. whatever you want,” he agrees quickly, the lust in his eyes at your demand reaching a whole new level. he removes his thumb from your clit and the sudden lack of contact causes you to whine pathetically. “sshhh, don’t worry baby. i’ve got something even better, i promise.”

just as some tears from frustration are welling up in your eyes, taerae’s lips close around your clit and he begins to suck. “oh my GOD,” is all you can manage as your orgasm starts to wash over you. “taerae. oh my god, tae... c-cumming.”

you’re grinding your pussy against his tongue now to maximize the friction and the way he lifts your hips a bit to bring you even closer tells you that he’s loving every second of this. your moans match the ones that taerae is mewing into your core. he places your hips back down onto the mattress, holding them steady as you start to squirm a bit from the overstimulation. he continues to lap at you gently as your hand falls from his hair to his shoulder, causing him to look up at you.

your cheeks are red now from both your climax and the new wave of embarrassment that’s creeping up on you. you’re not sure what to say, but luckily taerae’s got you covered.

he inserts two fingers inside of you again and then pulls them out-- covered in your juices. without hesitating, he sticks them in his mouth and sucks them clean. “you’ve tasted yourself, right? probably a lot. fuck, i’m so jealous.”

your jaw drops a bit, now doubly unable to speak at the filth pouring out of your best friend’s mouth..

taerae frowns at you. “what? you want to make this awkward now?”

you shake your head. 

“was it good?” he asks, head tilting to the side as he squints slightly. you reach over to his nightstand and grab his glasses, handing them back to him. he puts them on; raising his hand to ruffle his hair.

“you know it was good,” you mumble annoyedly.

he grins. “yeah. i do.”

“UGH,” you groan, hiding behind your hands again. “i hate you.”

“please, pleeeease tae,” he mocks, climbing up closer to your face to really rub it in. “make me cum.”

“SHUT UP!” you shout, hitting his chest with your fists in annoyance. “do not get cocky about this.”

taerae shrugs, biting his lip to keep from smirking. “i guess you never wanna do this again then?”

you sigh defeatedly before replying softly, “i didn’t say that.”

“good,” he says with a smile-- shifting to the edge of the bed and standing up. “i’m gonna get you some water and a towel, okay? don’t move a muscle.”

you don’t. taerae had made sure of that with the orgasm he’d just pulled out of you. as the door to his dorm room closes behind him, you’re left with only your thoughts and the sound of that shitty tv show playing in the background. you reach for the remote weakly, pressing pause on a bizarre scene of the weeknd jerking it over a clothing rack (?).

all you can think about, though, is taerae lapping at your pussy like a starved man. what the fuck just happened? did you really just let your best friend eat you out?

and how the fuck had he managed to leave you wanting more?

[haobubbles]

ARGUMENTS WITH ZB1

genre: angst, suggestive (in jiwoong & gunwook's) and a little fluff to save your tears!

tw: food metion (on yujin's)

req: I have a request!! Maybe arguments with zb1?? But like it could be either fluff or angst. I love ur works btw!!! 💗💗💗💗

roxy yappings: i’m not satisfied with this as a whole but wtv😓 anon i’m so glad you like themmm🩷 lots of love towards ur way and i hope you like this one!

hanbin - your constant bipolarity

hear me out..hanbin is a freak of stability, and it would drive him up the wall seeing your constant change in basically anything

you changed your opinion for the 4th time this week? mood changes? at first it was fun, but constantly? nuh uh

he tried to mention it sometimes, but seeing how you ignored it, he decided to ignore you until you got a grip of yourself

REALLY cold, even the memmbers find it weird

probably knows that he will forgive you too easily so he tries to avoid you (spoiler: now you're mad)

"when you stop fucking avoiding me then we'll talk"

could not believe his ears

decides to take an adult and mature approach and tries to talk it out, but takes a lot of things to the heart and decadides to spend some days within his own mind

forget but not forgive typa guy

jiwoong - attention

plain and simple, he thinks you don’t pay him enough attention

explains how he feels the second he starts to feel bed about it because he doesn’t want it to mess up the relationship

would bring up the littlest details you wouldn’t even notice (observant king)

would bring up the “tell me the truth is thaat good?” as a first argument ALWAYS

tries to hide his insecurities and concerns with jokes i’m just a chill guy

“is gyuvin more than me? why do you spend more time with him than with me?” “jiwoong it’s been 2 mins” “SO YOU DO LIVE HIM MOR-”

rather than arguing, it would be jiwoong throwing little tantrums

the key to his heart? reassurance

would jokingly (or not?) tell you to stay away from gyuvin

zanghao - unpunctuality

due to his busy schedule and his drained state afterwards, he's forgotten more than a couple times about your dates, leaving you alone sometimes for more than 2h

when you bring it out, he's flabbergastered, takes it as a joke

boy is PETTY

he brings out old "problems" or things you did, trying to change the subject

"why can't you understand that i have things to do"

would try to put his opinion above yours

"you left me for TWO HOURS in the cold and at 9pm hao" "you should've went home" "YOU should have come, or at least said something!"

literally does not drop the issue. he doesn't mean to hurt you, but he finds illogical you stood there outside waiting for him

portrays his frustration into the conversation as anger towards you

"will you ever admit that it was wrong?" "goodnight"

matthew - future plans

different approach of life brings you to a constant bickering that sometimes becomes an argument

he likes to plan things out and you like to go with the flow and whenever he tries to settle a date for your date, you dismiss him, which stresses him a LOT

sulking and pouting at it’s max

would curse in english

“i love you and i try to understand you, but you need to try and understand me too”

low-key every little fight would make him rethink the trajectory of your relationship and if it’s worth it. not to the point of breaking up, but he thinks about “what if the differences become bigger and we can’t pull it through?”

would take a step back and give you your own space

nonetheless, he would send sweet messages to your phone like “don’t forget to eat properly!” or “you know i love you,right”

would write a note saying “give me this note back when you’re ready to talk”

the sweetest but during fights, in the quick momentum he can be quite mean

taerae - all jokes n fun

sometimes you felt like you weren’t able to have a deep conversation with taerae without him joking, so when you decided to bring that out, he literally made it a huge problem and got mad

spent the whole week or ignoring you or talking to you in a very serious matter

formal speaking (childish attitude basically)

he took it to the heart

he basically thought he was bothering you and there was no way to fix it (VERY dramatic)

he isn’t sure how to approach the subject, so he pushes you off hoping you figure it out yourself

lowkey talks to the wall about the problem instead of you

literally his band mates have to trap you both in a room for him to open up

literally this emoji while you talk 😐

“so should i go back to normal or you want me to talk to you formal for a week more” typa guy

would go back to normal but he would randomly interrupt himself and go non-verbal

ricky - misscomunication

the reality of the distance between you and your boyfriend was real, espicifically when it came down to talking about his problems or worries

everytime you mentioned it, he avoided the subject

when you called him out and turned it into an arguement, he stood still and very quiet

has nothing to say because he knows you're right

"i don't care about your 'i'm sorry's' ricky, talk to me i'm here"

and he would stay quiet

would be a little frustrated (mostly at himself) but wouldn't show it

"maybe someday but i'm not ready, don't push it" he would say to dismiss the subject

he wouold feel bad afterwards so; cuddle sesson! (still no communication)

gyuvin - personal space

sometimes, you just felt that he suffocated you. especially today, when you were in the first day of your period. he was all over you with hugs and kisses and hand placements. quite cute but too much.

tells you he understands you while not letting you go

he's too worried to leave your side and explains it to you, and even if you explain how you feel and he claims to undertand you, he does nothing to change the current situation

turns into a full yelling-screaming argument

would try to put his opinion above yours pt.2

"this is what i get for worrying about you?"

gets frustrated and slams the door to walk out of it saying "well, now you figure it out yourself"

during the week he would send you messages (constantly) asking you how you're doing, and adding an "good i guess" when you reply to

gunwook - your family

besides being a low blow to his pride, he hated knowing your parents didn't approve of your relationship

doesen't understand why you don't care about it when it's all he thinks about

i don't think there would be many arguments (considering how good he is at debating) but it would definetly would keep you both on your toes for a couple weeks

constant reestatements throughout the whole day

bickering (not fighting) when you talk about it for a long time

"do you know what it feels to know two of the most important people in your life don't want me in it?"

low-key master of manipulation

would make dirty jokes when you're talking to desconcentrate you "i'm just tired of all this" "oh i know another way of making you feel tired"

would think it's off when he doesn't receive anything from you, but it's just you being quiet because you know it will never end

asks about it afterwards to know if the fight is over or if he should keep on giving you reasons

yujin - his eating habits

boy doesn't see the problem

it unsettles him that you are picking up a fight with him because he doesn't eat enough

probably gives it no importance at first but when he sees you actually worked up about it and ignoring him for the week, he gets mad at you too

calls you out for somwthing you do because he feels cornered

"so what if i don't eat? you don't ... and i'm not yelling at you about it" typa guy

wouldn't even try to make a solution out of it, assumes you will come around

even if the older members tell him to just have a conversation with you and figure it out, he's too sttuborn to do that

eats a LITTLE bit more ever since you mentioned it but he does it when he's alone so no one notices the change

[shotanzz]

ZB1 HANBIN IDEAL TYPE ~ based on astrology

reminder this is based off of my opinions from observing his chart and my own knowledge and is not exact fact unless I knew him myself and im not a professional astrologer

Note: yes I have posted this before but took it down because people had me fed up 😭

Appearance: he enjoys the beauty within other cultures but may lean more towards korean beauty standards, someone who presents as feminine or is overall pretty/ethereal, a pronounced attractive neckline, nice shoulder lines, someone smaller than him whether it’s via frame/height/etc, softer but pronounced facial angles and features, a cute nose shape, cute smile with charm, very clean and prim dress up style (always presentable basically), a face that’s more expressive and not super stoic, pretty lip line, wears more pretty or glam makeup

Personality: someone on the more introverted/introspective side of the spectrum, a homebody, carries themselves with value and self esteem, someone a bit opinionated or sassy, transparent or simplistic with their emotions, someone who can easily come up with jokes (witty), sweet and polite, creative but not overly “deep” or pretentious, calm but capable of leaving their shell, someone with a form of status or regality to them, a bit gossipy, someone easily admired, someone with hobbies that lead them to be talented, takes good care of themselves, very intelligent or well versed in certain subjects, has good emotional intelligence and understanding/empathetic with reason

Morals/Values: someone who has financial plans or ideals/borderline has a sense of financial responsibility, someone who doesn’t overindulge in the party scene too much, a person with a belief system or morals that they’re loyal to, someone who understands the value of time being used wisely, open to other perspectives and cultures (isn’t overly bigoted basically)

Extras: he MIGHT not be interested in the basic typical people in the industry like he may prefer people who have different venues of creativity or has talents outside of basic dancing/singing, may find languages and cultures outside of his own attractive, maybe like a more lighter or softer toned voice

[chaesparklez]

victory (pt.1) | taerae x reader

wc: 2.7k

reader: femme afab

warnings: 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI

teasing, lap dancing, oral m!receiving, sloppy oral sex, tension, slightly bratty reader, subby taerae

synopsis: game rules

- whichever player makes the opponent cum in the shortest amount of time wins. the opponent only has to cum once for the player to win.

- the game is timed. the timer starts upon first contact with the opponent's center.

- acts of foreplay like kissing or heavy petting excluding the genitals do not count.

a thrilling game of control and domination. whose victory will it be?

a/n: i am so so happy to have written this story! the idea and writing process for this piece flowed out so naturally and i had so much fun writing it. as a kkultarae i feel like a taerae fic was long overdue. enjoy the story and stay seated for pt 2 :)

cross-posted on wattpad and ao3. available through user @/chaesparkle

“let's play a game."

taerae looks up from his computer, slipping his headphones off one ear.

"what was that, jagi?" he replies.

you smile mischievously and take a couple steps towards him where he sits at his gaming desk. you ruffle his hair and rest your hand on the nape of his neck.

"i said, let's play a game. a really fun one." you smile, massaging his neck with your hand.

he looks up into your eyes, his gaze a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"what game is it?" he asks.

you grin deviously.

~~

you and taerae had been dating for a year and a half now. initially shy, he had opened up wonderfully with you, appreciating how you were always ready to lead him and teach him something new. whether it was explaining some cool academic concept, a technique on how to fold a fitted sheet... or how to eat pussy.

with his lack of experience, you guys started off pretty slow so he could learn the basics. but once he got going... well.

the thing about taerae was that he was incredibly hardworking. he knew what he lacked in and worked tirelessly till he perfected it. and he did so with this quiet confidence that you'd always found insanely sexy. not overly cocky, never too critical of himself, just aware of his good points and always ready to improve.

you can imagine how that translated into the bedroom. over the course of the past year you had basically given him a 101 on how to drive a woman crazy, and needless to say you couldn't keep your hands off eachother once he had grown comfortable exploring.

and today, you decided you wanted to give a surprise test to spice things up a bit.

"let's see who can make the other cum the fastest."

his eyebrows raise in surprise, caught a little off guard at the unexpected proposal. but shock is taken over by amusement, then competitiveness as his eyes glint with determination.

"what are the stakes?" he asks.

"winner doesn't have to do the dishes for a week."

he laughs and ruffles his hair. "can't pass up that," he takes his headset off and swivels around in his chair to face you fully.

'okay, any rules?' he asks.

you purse your lips in thought for a second, deciding how you wanted to do this. "hmmm."

you set out the following rules:

- whichever player makes the opponent cum in the shortest amount of time wins. the opponent only has to cum once for the player to win.

- the game is timed. the timer starts upon first contact with the opponent's center.

- acts of foreplay like kissing or heavy petting excluding the genitals do not count.

taerae loved this organisation. he smirks and nods his head, loving the prospect of both winning a competition and getting to see you crumble before him.

"sounds good to me. get ready to have the fastest orgasm you've ever had." he grins.

"unfortunately that'll be you." you smile.

"guess we'll just have to see about that. who should go first?'

"i will. come to the sitting room in 10 minutes." you reply, already having decided what you'd do with a smirk.

"okay then," he replies, gazing at you with darkened eyes. 'i’m anticipating it.’

you smile and plant a kiss on his neck. "may the best player win." you whisper.

"oh, he will." he breathes.

~~

"honey, you can come out now!" you call.

taerae enters the sitting room to find the lights dimmed and a chair placed in the middle of the room. you are nowhere to be seen.

"jagi, where are you?" he calls back, mildly puzzled.

"you'll see plenty of me in a second," you chirp with a grin from the adjoining room. 'sit in the chair and wait in the meanwhile.'

he takes his place and laughs quietly to himself, anticipating to see what you've prepared. you had a habit of surprising him but he was sure he wouldn't fall for it this time being determined to win the game.

well, he was sure in for a ride.

all of a sudden, he hears music filling the room. the speakers were playing a song from all corners of the space. he looks around bemused.

"jagi?" he calls out.

showtime.

"yes?" you reply innocently, stepping into the doorway.

taerae's eyes widen with shock for a second, then he bites his lip with a smile, throwing his head back with a chuckle knowing that he's already in danger of losing by how his cock is twitching in his pants just at the sight of you.

you stand before him dressed in a baby tee and plaid micro mini skirt, white thigh high socks and platform heels. the only accessories you wore were a kitty headband and a white garter with a bow around your thigh. much of you was on show not leaving a lot to the imagination; although taerae's imagination right now was running wild. you smile, knowing this outfit would drive him crazy.

you knew that your gamer boyfriend was secretly into the stereotypical sexy female twitch streamer getup despite him insisting he was different. after all, he was still a man. and you were going to play this to your advantage to win the game. you were going to give him an agonizing lap dance.

you strut slowly towards him and circle around his chair while caressing his shoulder. he places his hand on top of yours as you brush it across his hoodie, to which you remove your hand immediately.

"no touching yet." you whisper, waggling a finger at him mischievously.

taerae bites his lip and covers his face with his hands, knowing that having to sit still while you give him a lap dance barely clothed might actually make him cum in his pants if he doesn't control himself. his cock was already throbbing like crazy.

all he could think about right now was how fucking sexy you looked in that outfit. like a present wrapped up for him with that bow around your thigh. he wanted nothing more than to fuck you in this getup, removing your garter with his teeth. bending you over and sliding your panties aside before thrusting his throbbing erection into your core, watching you teeter in those stilettos...

but here he stayed sat on the chair as you tortured him with your wily charms. he sits on his hands purely because he wasn't sure he could refrain from touching you if he didn't.

now slowly, more deliberately, you strut to the back of his chair and run your hand along his chest where you can momentarily feel his heart pounding, tracing your fingertips up along his neck then pulling his head back with a tug to his hair. you exhale warm breath onto his exposed neck before gently kissing him below the lobe then nibbling on his ear.

"fuck." taerae breathes, fighting not to let out a moan.

he was struggling to keep his resolve as you knew exactly how to make him crumble- by targeting his erogenous zone. the tingling sensation of your breath on his neck and your gentle nibbles on his earlobe drives him insane, exhaling shakily with his eyes closed. he swallows nervously and purses his lips together.

you release him with a smile, continuing to circle round with your hand tracing his other shoulder, down to his chest, then his thigh, till you stand before him. you place your leg between his thighs, stiletto resting on the polished oak of the chair. then grazing his inner thigh with your foot. he clenches his teeth in desperation, using all the power in him to not forfeit the game and fuck you right in this chair.

you draw your hand up your thigh beginning at the knee, brushing past the lacy garter. taerae's gaze follows your touch; your panties were visible as your skirt hiked up past your thighs. he stared with longing at your parted thighs, wanting nothing more than to grab them and bury his head between them..

you lift his chin with a finger forcing him to look away from your leg and at your face.

"look at me, baby." you whisper.

he nods in submission, prompting a tingle to spread through your center at the yearning look in his eyes. you step back and begin to dance for him, letting the music wash over you as you sway your hips, flip your hair and draw out every movement so his eyes linger on the arch of your back and your tantalising ass peeking out from under that micro mini skirt. taerae watches you intently, entranced and still struggling to ignore the aching bulge in his pants.

"you're determined to win this, huh?" he rasps.

"of course." you reply, cocking your head to the side and grinning.

running a hand through your hair, you amble slowly towards your tortured lover. then straddle him in the chair, legs either side of him with your chest in his face. he swallows nervously at your proximity, gazing up at you with longing.

“you can touch me if you want,” you whisper.

he runs his fingers up the side of your exposed waist, making you shiver gently. you begin to move your hips, grinding against his clothed cock and feeling it graze your center. you bite your lip to stifle a moan, the both of you engaging in a torturous battle of restraint; you weren’t sure who’d lose.

you continue to undulate against him and lean down to plant kisses on his neck. you suck and nibble at the smooth skin, peppering his neck with splotchy red love bites. he lets out a shaky breath and you feel his cock twitch. gingerly, he palms your breast, long fingers running across your nipple and squeezing gently. you let out a soft moan against his neck and retract, gazing into his eyes as your chests rise and fall against eachother. you feel yourself start to lose focus and remember suddenly to maintain your resolve, breaking the moment of catharsis by planting a kiss on his full lips and leaving his lap.

knowing your ass looked great in this skirt, you decided to tease him further by facing away and bending over slightly, tracing your fingertips down the back of your thighs, shaking it a little with a giggle. you can practically hear him stop breathing trying to control himself.

placing your hands on the arms of the chair, you flick your hair while swaying your ass side to side before sitting in his lap, this time pushing your clouded thoughts aside determined to win the game. you hook your arm around his neck and begin to grind again, slower but more firmly this time. rolling your hips and feeling his erection poking your ass as you move against it. you brush your other hand across your chest as you lose yourself in the movements.

"jagi... please.." he rasps in your ear.

pretending not to hear his plea, you give yourself a sly smile and rise from his lap.

then you sink down to your knees in front of him looking up at him with pseudo innocence.

"please what, baby? are you asking for something?" you ask, batting your lashes.

"touch me. let me touch you. please... so hard." he groans, clenching his jaw and throwing his head back in agitation.

"someone looks bothered. let's see if we can get rid of some of that tension." you reply wily.

you rub his thighs with your hands, deliberately avoiding his cock to avoid breaking the rules. he exhales shakily. you smile, finally deciding to reward him for holding out this long.

"you've done so well, baby. let me make you feel good." you whisper.

you pull down his pants enough so his erection springs out, tip leaking a bead of precum. even though you were trying to assert dominance right now, the sight of him this hard made you suddenly aware of the wetness building between your thighs.

you reach under the chair for the stopwatch you had placed there and hold it facing towards him.

"let's start." you say, and press the 'go' button.

taking a moment to push your hair back, you take his cock into your hand and spit on it before stroking it gently. you gaze up into his eyes and slowly lick along the dorsal vein at a painstaking pace. his cock twitches in your hand as if it calls out for more. starting at the shaft, you plant sloppy kisses all the way up his length till you reach his angry pink tip, then deepthroat him. taerae lets out a deep moan, the feeling of his cock all the way down your warm throat sending tingles down his spine.

you swirl your tongue around his tip to lick up the leaking precum before slowly sucking him off, your mouth travelling halfway down before coming up again. he looks down at you with a dark gaze, pupils focused on you intently.

you begin to suck him off more intensely, starting off slow then progressively getting faster, sloppily spitting all over his cock making a warm sticky mess all over the both of you. you watch as the saliva runs down his length; it momentarily remains a string suspended in air between your lips and his cock, and as you jerk him off it makes a delectable sound.

he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "doing so well, baby. you look so hot right now drooling all over my dick."

you smile in satisfaction and carry on. you pick up the pace, head bobbing up and down rapidly as you suck him off with your ass jiggling in time with your movements. you deepthroat him again and stay there for a couple seconds, moaning so the vibrations from your throat send him into a new plane of ecstasy. your eyes water slightly from the pressure but you continue at a slowly increasing speed, feeling him get closer to climax as his groans of pleasure grow louder.

then your final weapon. you enclose your lips around his tip while your hand remains wrapped around his length, and suck.

"f-fuck. oh my god. fuck." he breathes, stuttering from the sheer stimulation. your lips targeting the most sensitive part of his cock while you jerk him off sloppily drives him insane. he screws his eyes shut and moans.

"i'm close," he pants. you maintain the pace and carry on sucking and licking the smooth head of his cock, making eye contact with him once again.

and he shatters.

with a deep grunt, he cums, hot fluid spurting all over your tongue. you slow down the movements of your hand and suck his tip clean of every last drop of cum, then swallow, releasing his cock from your mouth with a pop. you move the hair out of your eyes, slightly out of breath and panting.

he looks down at the scene before him: his cock covered in a mix of spit and precum, your chin covered in saliva, cheeks red and lipstick smudged. he holds your chin and wipes a smear of pink away with his thumb.

"have to give this one to you, baby. you never fail to surprise me." he laughs wearily as you gaze at eachother.

taerae's face is flushed and his pupils waver from side to side as you kneel before him a mess. hair tangled, makeup smudged...

you hold up the stopwatch.

"five minutes twelve seconds. think you can beat it?"

he takes a moment to regard you, then smiles, leaning forward in his chair with a knowing expression.

what you didn't know was that taerae was just as competitive as you- if not more. and while you had gone above and beyond his expectations right now, he still had something in store for you that would have you folding immediately.

planning, organising, calculating like a true 'T' on how to give you the fastest orgasm of your life. you didn't stand a chance. he smirks at you with an air of utmost confidence, caressing your cheek.

"i think you'll be surprised at what i have in store for you, jagi," he breathes in a deep voice.

and you find yourself a little thrown off by his sudden resolve, thinking you hadn't crumbled him to dust as finely as you thought you had. but overwhelmingly what you felt right now was... lust.

his dimples appearing as he flashes that sly smirk, eyes filled with competitiveness and that quiet confidence that made you very aware of how your core was soaking wet and throbbing.

noticing your expression, taerae chuckles again and leans forward so your faces are only inches apart.

"let's see what you have to say to my plan." he whispers in your ear.

*and the game continues…*

[globaloppaaa]

hi! could i request a zb1 reaction to their s/o being cold and snuggling up to them?

zerobaseone when you’re cold ─── ⋆. 𐙚

𐔌 ݂۫ · even if i melt down in front of you, im feeling alright ་∔་།

wc: 700 bfzb1&reader est. relationship hcs

a/n: loveee soft requests like these, thank you for requesting!

warnings: none

KIM JIWOONG [김지웅]

he feels your presence looming beside him, patiently waiting for any sign of acceptance. the weather has just been too frigid all week, too unbearable to deal with alone. he notices you coming closer, arms wrapped around your body as best they can to maintain any warmth. he opens his arms and lets you fall softly into his embrace, one arm looping around your waist, the other holding your head close to his heart. “just come to me whenever you need dear.”

ZHANG HAO [장하오]

zhang hao might come off as skeptical at first, observing the way you shiver into his side, how your hands cup your mouth as you exhale into them for warmth. looking down at you with concern flickering his eyes, he takes your hands into his, placing them inside his pockets as you to shift towards his chest. he intertwines your fingers as you turn into his warm embrace. “if you wanted me to hold you all you had to do was ask.”

SUNG HANBIN [성한빈]

hanbin immediately notices the coldness affecting you, the way your teeth lightly chatter on the couch next to him, and watching the way your head slowly fights itself from leaning against his shoulder, afraid of nudging into his personal space. only hanbin loves your personal space, and couldn’t let you freeze any longer. he takes you into his lap, pulling over the blanket beside him and letting your body weight naturally fall into his. “we can stay like this for as long as you like, you’re keeping me warm too.”

KIM TAERAE [김태래]

Frigidly your figure approaches him, arms tightly clung around your body for heat as your eyes plead to be close. he looks at you with a concerning gaze, an eyebrow slowly raising as if he can already read your current state. he then opens his arms with a gently smile, which you quickly find yourself crashing into. a warmth radiates between you as he leans into the sofa, bringing a hand up to stroke your cheek softly. “i can always tell honey, i know you like the back of my heart.”

SEOK MATTHEW [석매튜]

He catches your eyes flickering to his figure, before inching your way closer as if patiently waiting for him to give you ‘the okay’. He wastes no time, wrapping his arm around your waist with a chuckle just before you can settle, and pulls you into his lap as he swings your legs across him. “Is this better love?” he asks, grin slightly growing across his face. he kisses your temple, cupping your cheek in his warm hand. and his heart pulses at the way you cuddle into his side with a soft hum.

SHEN RICKY [리키]

Ricky can tell you’re cold before you even speak on it. the way your hands pull back into your sleeves, uncomfortably looking for warmth in his side. before you can process anything further, he scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to your room. “i think some blankets might help you more than just me baby.” his lips mumble across your temple, and by the time he settles the two of you into your bed, placing your head in the crook of his neck, you already find yourself beginning to warm up.

KIM GYUVIN [김규빈]

Gyuvin is a bit confused by the slight touch of your head against his shoulder, before he eyes the way your teeth begin to chatter, and the way you shrink into him. he gives a soft smile, wrapping his arms around your figure while breathing small ‘huffs’ of heat to your neck. “Am i your own personal heater now?” he asks, nose nudging against your temple, and melts at the way your eyes find his, nodding against his embrace.

PARK GUNWOOK [박건욱]

Boy does he do a terrible job at seeming unaffected in anyway. and probably likes this a little more than you do? he notices how you gently lean into him, not wanting to make a big deal out of the cold weather, but he lets his heart get ahead of him and pulls you snug into his chest, wrapping an arm around your figure as you let out a shivered laugh. “if i weren’t this cold i’d think you’d just made an excuse to hold me.” and he kisses your head before resting his chin above it. “you wouldn’t be too far off.��

HAN YUJIN [한유진]

he’s definitely taken aback at first, noticing the way your figure naturally gravitates to his as you sit beside him. But what he’s yet to let on is that he quite enjoys it, the feeling of you against him, how when he gently shifts his arm you fit so snug in the crook of his side. How warm you make him feel despite your soft whining otherwise. And maybe he likes the feeling of sharing his blanket with you, because he feels more comfortable than ever being by your side.

[wintergeneration]

▍ ❘❘❘❘❙⠀: 🏮 𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗢 : celestial b͟e͟a͟u͟t͟y͟ ❤︎ ❘ ❙ ∗ ࣪ ˖ ༺

⏝ໂ❀｡*♫ ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ ﮾᳜⡴. ✴️ ཐི♡⃟͚ཋྀ ✲ ▩⃨♪᳝᳜ ▂▃ ⟡ 𓈒 𓂂˚ ࣪⤿ ◜͡ ୧ ͟⚊

ᬊ ㉇ི⃨ࣺ᭮ ⛩️ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎̶̲̌͜♪⃝*️⃣ ⣓. I lost my 𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗬 ⃨۪۪̃۟ 📼꯳⃘꤫ꫝ

𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝗎𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌, 𝗅𝗎𝗇𝖺 . 💿

[arafilez]

੭୧ ⼂ SPECKS OF LOVE ﹗

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ ktr x fem!reader ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤfluff 𓏧 kissing in rain is too impractical according to him...well too bad ㅤㅤ warnings kissing ㅤ﹢ㅤ1.1k wc ㅤ𓏧ㅤ req

Rain has always easily been your favourite from childhood. So much that even with all windows closed you could tell when it falls, simply by the smell of the fresh ground hit by the rain. You loved sitting by the window, tracing the raindrops on the glass, reading a book or simply just looking outside.

Today was no exception as you feel the cool breeze hit your face from the open windows and look over to see a drizzle outside. After a week of continuous heat, the cool weather makes your mind infinitely better as you sway lightly to the soft music in the speakers.

You gasp lightly and then giggle when you feel Taerae’s hand wrap around your waist as he nuzzles his face in your neck mumbling, “Morning.” You lean your head against his, the familiar scent encasing your senses making you smile in bliss as your slow rhythmic heartbeats and music take over the room.

“Morning sleepyhead, did you freshen up?” you ask, stroking his hair lightly and he nods against your neck. Taerae is not even sleepy but your appearance and your mood in the morning have walked all over his senses as soon as he walked in and it just makes him want to hold you more.

Still holding you he gets up from your shoulder and pecks you on the lips taking you by surprise and says, “You look particularly happy today.” You stare at the man incredulously making him smile with his adorable dimples.

You kiss his dimple and say, “Well, when I am not sweating through every pore of my body it makes me happy,” he lets out a loud laugh at your sentence and you continue sighing softly, “Plus, it is raining!”

“Yes, it is, the roads will be slippery today,” he says making you scoff and roll your eyes saying, “Okay extreme S we get it.” He shrugs lightly as he sways along the music with you, hands still not leaving your waist and he asks, “You love rain don’t you?”

“I think it attaches well with lots of emotions,” you hum, eyes training on the raindrops accumulating in the glass window and you continue, “Like it is romantic and if you wanna step up a notch, kissing in the rain is absolutely my dream.”

“Well, that’s,” he pauses, looking everywhere but your eyes as you look at him questioningly before he sighs and continues, “Impractical.” “What?” you whisper, gasping a tad bit too dramatically but it was worth it as you bite back a smile seeing Taerae’s deadpan look.

“How could you not like kissing in the rain Kim Taerae? It is romantic and I will prove it to you,” you say swinging the butter knife in the air rather carelessly as you try to explain to him. He holds your hand, gently making you put the knife down and chuckles. “Woah, baby why did we transfer to government names?”

You swiftly turn around in his arms and poke a finger at his chest saying, “Because you mister do not think kissing in the rain is romantic.” He scrunches his face a little at your cute act before saying, “I am just saying it is not worth it, you can catch a cold with it. Also, there is nothing special about it.”

You face-palm yourself before putting out the two toasts from the toaster and turning towards him again.

“You know what, I will prove it to you right now,” you say tearing yourself out of his eye contact before dragging him by his hands. He whines loudly, starting all over again how utterly stupid it is and how you two will catch a cold but you turn a deaf ear as you turn the lock of your main door.

Taerae relents into your shenanigans, partly because he knows it was useless to go against you and mainly because as much as he finds it impractical and unrealistic he is a man in love and thus would do all kinds of stupid things for you and you only.

You pull him outside as he rolls his eyes at you but walks with you anyway to the small garden in front. The rain has increased a bit from before and it soaks his shirt and yours as you two stand face to face now. Water feels heavy on your eyelids as you realise how you did not plan this well at all.

Now that you are outside you realise you did not think this through. Standing awkwardly with the rain pelting your skin and rolling down your cheeks, you look at Taerae and blink slowly. He chuckles seeing your flustered state and says, “Well, prove it.” You release a small noise of desperation from your throat looking anywhere but him as he grins cheekily saying, “If you can’t prove it we should just go inside because you know we will catch a cold and then we need to take meds, and rest, unable to move for days-“

He knows he has accomplished what he wants as you pull him by the collar and kiss him wanting him to shut up with his boring sentences. Your eyes widen at your own actions but Taerae is quick to act, melting into the kiss as you close your eyes too. Your lips move in a lazy rhythm as he holds your hand and your cheek making you clutch his shirt.

Water drips down your lips, getting into the kiss and making it messy but all the better as your mind goes into a form of haze with the rain in the background. The scent of the ground in the rain, your soaked bodies pressed together, his hand that has slipped from your cheeks and is tracing along the side of your body down to your waist makes it feel so surreal.

As you part, a little breathless from the kiss, you watch the raindrops sitting on his eyelashes as he looks at you through eyes clouded with a multitude of emotions. Your clothes are fully soaked and Taerae’s cold fingers on your bare skin under your t-shirt make a shiver pass down your spine as he licks his lips to devoid it of any rainwater and to reminisce the aftertaste of the kiss.

He looks at you and watches the specks of rain on your face, making you sparkle in a whole different light in his eyes. The tinge of warmth creeping on your skin at his gaze and the flush on your neck makes him lose more and more of his sanity with each passing second.

“I- I don’t know,” you start but he doesn’t let you speak as he pulls you towards him and your noses bump lightly from the contact. His lips fall over yours, an addiction he can never comprehend and an incomparable taste as he holds you close in the pouring rain.

Yes, he may be realistic but this impractical thing is so much better with you! 

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤtysm 🥭 anon for requesting, had wayyy too much fun writing this, i am down bad for this man ㅤ𓏧ㅤ libraryㅤ zb1 shelfㅤ navi

੭ 𝅄ㅤ ꒰ TAGLIST ꒱ ㅤ⏤ㅤ @slytherinshua @sxmmerberries @haecien @haneagerr ㅤ𓏧ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

[paradise-world]

Beneath The Surface | Kim Taerae ZB1

Summary : In a high school where popularity and social expectations define everyone's worth, you find yourself caught between your quiet nature and the pressure to conform. When Taerae, the popular yet conflicted boy, starts breaking the façade he's built to fit in, his vulnerability draws you closer, but it also stirs doubt and confusion. As you both navigate the tangled web of identity, loyalty, and personal truths, you must decide whether to risk everything for the sake of authenticity. In a world full of facades, the question remains: Can you both truly embrace who you are, without losing each other in the process?

Genre : Popular!Taerae X Quiet Fem!Reader, School, Fluff, Angst, Romance, Coming Of Age, Drama

Warnings : N/A

Playlist : She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds Of Summer / Chelsea by The Summer Set / Somebody To You by The Vamps / Classic by MKTO / Talk Too Much by Coin / Complicated by Avril Lavigne / Somebody Else by The 1975 / Television Romance by Pale Waves / This Love by Maroon 5 / Teenage Dream by Katy Perry

Word count : 18k (18,814 exact)

the sun has already dipped below the horizon by the time you leave the library, casting long shadows down the marble-floored corridor. soft golden light spills from the arched windows, filtering through dust motes that drift lazily in the air. the silence is thick, padded by the hush of the evening and the distant hum of the janitor’s cart. your footsteps echo like whispers against the stone, and with each step, your mind replays the day's lectures, the scribbled pages, the quiet ache behind your eyes from trying too hard to disappear.

the footsteps come first—light, unhurried, too self-assured to belong to anyone else.

"hey."

you turn slowly, your fingers still curled around the strap of your backpack. taerae stands there, half in shadow, the loose tie around his neck swinging with each step he takes. his blazer is slung over one shoulder, and that ever-present grin plays on his lips like a secret he’s not quite ready to tell. the hallway lighting catches in his hair, making the copper strands gleam gold at the edges.

"fancy meeting you here," he says, the way someone might say hello on a lazy summer afternoon, not like you're the only two left in this part of campus. his voice is light, effortless, but there’s something behind it—like he’s testing the ground before stepping closer.

"you followed me."

"guilty." he shrugs. "you’re not exactly hard to find. library, third row, always by the window. sometimes you bring coffee, sometimes tea. you tap your pencil when you’re stuck."

you raise a brow, shifting your weight. "do you keep track of everyone like that, or am i just lucky?"

"just you."

the answer comes without hesitation, but he doesn’t look at you when he says it. instead, his gaze flicks to the floor, then up to the high ceiling as if he's trying to act like it doesn’t matter. it does. you know it. he knows it. the air feels different now, charged, brittle.

"i thought you were going home."

"i was. then i wasn’t. plans change."

"sounds impulsive."

"sounds like me," he says with a grin.

you nod once, but say nothing. the silence stretches, fragile but not uncomfortable, like a shared blanket on a cold night.

"you always this quiet?" he asks, stepping closer now, until he’s leaning against the wall across from you. his eyes study you, not searching for flaws, but for openings.

"you always this nosy?"

to your surprise, he laughs—not loud, but genuine, from deep in his chest. it makes something in your ribs shift, like breath where there wasn’t any.

"maybe," he says. "depends on who i’m talking to."

the hallway hums with quiet energy, like the walls themselves are holding their breath. lockers line either side like silent witnesses. you glance past him, toward the staircase that leads out, but don’t move.

"come on," taerae says suddenly, straightening up. "let’s go somewhere."

"why?"

"why not? don’t you ever get tired of this place? the pressure, the silence, the pretending?"

"i don’t pretend."

he gives you a look. not mocking, but curious. "you don’t? ever? not even a little?"

you think of all the days you’ve stayed quiet in class to avoid drawing attention, all the times you’ve bitten your tongue when someone said something wrong just to stay invisible. you think of your hands, always fidgeting under the table, and your throat that tightens when people expect more than you’re willing to give. the invisible armor you wear every day.

"everyone pretends," you say finally.

"exactly," he murmurs. then he grins again. "come on. rooftop. i’ve got snacks."

"you brought snacks to school?"

"you never know when you’ll need to bribe someone into good company."

he starts walking, and to your own surprise, you follow. it feels reckless. it feels strange. but it also feels right.

the rooftop is quiet, windswept, the city below just a low hum of traffic and light. the sky stretches wide and ink-blue above you, streaked with the last traces of twilight. he lays out a small bag of chips and a couple cans of soda like it’s some kind of picnic. the gravel crunches softly beneath your feet as you sit down beside him.

"this is ridiculous," you say, though you’re already sitting.

"so are most good things," he replies.

a breeze rolls over the rooftop, and you both lean back, letting the silence wrap around you. for a while, you just sit there, the both of you sipping soda, staring out over the edge where the stars begin to blink into existence. the kind of silence that says more than words ever could.

"truth or dare?" he asks suddenly, like it’s a game he’s been dying to play all day. his tone is casual, but there's a strange tension in the way he says it—like he's fishing for something he’s not sure he’s ready to catch.

you glance at him. "neither."

the words are soft, but they land heavy between you.

taerae blinks, caught off guard. "neither? you can’t just—"

"i can."

he stares at you for a moment, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t realize was missing pieces. "so you don’t play games."

"not ones that start with pressure and end in discomfort."

the wind catches his hair, brushing it across his eyes. he pushes it back absently, his hand lingering in his hair a moment too long. "you’re something else."

"i get that a lot."

"i meant it as a compliment."

"i know."

the quiet returns, but it’s heavier now. not awkward—just full. charged with possibility.

taerae leans back on his hands, exhaling. "you know, i thought you didn’t like me."

"i don’t."

he laughs again, but this time there’s a note of something else behind it—relief, maybe. or hope.

"but you came up here. you stayed. that has to mean something."

you don’t answer. not because you don’t have one, but because the truth is slippery, and you’re not sure he’d believe it even if you said it aloud.

you watch his profile against the night, the way his jaw flexes when he’s thinking, the way his eyes flicker with something like sadness when he thinks you’re not looking. you wonder what it’s like to be that sure of yourself, that bright in a world full of shadows.

"you always like this with everyone?" you ask.

"only with people i can’t figure out."

"and can you? figure me out, i mean."

taerae turns to you, his face illuminated faintly by the soft orange glow of the rooftop lights. his expression is serious now, stripped of humor.

"not even close," he says. "but i want to."

the wind picks up again, rustling your clothes and teasing the edges of your hair. and for a moment neither of you speak. you feel the edge of something shift inside you—not enough to fall, but enough to lean.

"i should go," you say, standing up. your voice is steady, but your heart isn’t.

"yeah," he says, standing too. "me too."

as you walk back toward the stairwell, he doesn’t try to touch you. doesn’t try to stop you. but just before you reach the door, he says, "hey."

you turn.

"next time, maybe you’ll pick one. truth or dare."

"maybe," you say.

the metal door swings open with a soft creak, and you both step into the dim stairwell. the clatter of your steps echo faintly as you descend side by side.

and you know, as you walk down the stairs with his footsteps echoing behind yours, that he’ll ask again.

and you’re not sure what scares you more—that you might say yes.

or that you already want to.

the morning sun filters through the tall windows of your classroom, painting golden streaks across the floor. the scent of paper, old wood, and faint citrus cleaner lingers in the air as students chatter around you, voices a soft hum of excitement and dread. your desk is warm from the sunlight, and you absentmindedly trace a finger over a small nick in the wood as your teacher clicks through the morning’s slides.

"group project," she announces, setting her remote down with a decisive click. the sound echoes slightly in the high-ceilinged room. "you'll be working in groups of four. research and present a critical analysis of a modern social issue. presentations in two weeks."

you already feel a ripple of anxiety in your chest, threading like cold water down your spine. group work means talking. collaborating. being visible.

"groups are assigned," she continues, her voice too casual for the bomb she's dropping. she begins to read names off a list, each pair of syllables like a tick of a metronome.

as she reads through the roster, your gaze flicks outside. cherry blossoms are blooming in the courtyard, fragile petals catching on the wind and tumbling like confetti. you lose yourself for a moment in the slow, aimless dance of it—until you hear your name.

"taerae, ohseong, areum, and... y/n."

your name lands softly, like a pebble in still water. not unpleasant. just unexpected. you glance sideways and meet taerae’s eyes as he turns in his seat. he catches your gaze and grins—half-charming, half-mocking, wholly unreadable. ohseong, seated two rows up, nods once, as if this grouping had been inevitable. areum leans closer, her expression lighting up.

"we’ve got a good team," she whispers, already uncapping her favorite pen. there’s something unwavering about her. always in your corner, always seeing more in you than you let show.

by late afternoon, the four of you gather in the quietest corner of the library, where dust motes swirl like slow snowflakes in the shafts of sunlight. the shelves tower over you like watchful guardians, and the hum of whispered conversations and pages turning forms a kind of cocoon.

taerae arrives last, as expected. he drops his bag beside the table and slides into the seat across from you with the kind of lazy grace that feels practiced. his eyes sweep over the group.

"alright, team," he says, his smile bright, shoulders loose. "we’ve got this. how do you think we should tackle the assignment?"

his tone is light, but there’s an unmistakable seriousness beneath it, like he’s measuring your reactions even as he plays it cool.

"let’s start by breaking down the requirements," ohseong offers. his voice is calm, thoughtful. "and assigning parts based on our strengths. no wasted effort."

areum shifts closer, her pink notepad already open, pen poised. "maybe we can sketch out a mind map? it might help us see how everything connects."

you nod, grateful for the direction—and her presence. you open your notebook, the one filled with stray thoughts and half-formed ideas, and turn to a clean page. as the others speak, you start to draw, letting the pencil move with quiet confidence.

"topics," taerae says, leaning forward. "throw some out. let’s see what sticks."

"media influence on youth," ohseong suggests.

"or digital identity," areum adds. "there’s a lot of potential there—self-image, privacy, pressure to perform… it branches really well."

you glance up. "it also lets us pull from psychology, sociology, and tech. there’s depth. data."

taerae raises an eyebrow. "you’ve thought about this before."

"a little."

"of course you have," he says softly. his smile shifts—less teasing now, more genuine. "digital identity it is."

the brainstorming begins in earnest. your page fills with interconnected bubbles: public versus private personas, algorithmic shaping of identity, performance culture. areum colors the branches with highlighters. ohseong begins collecting reference materials. taerae starts outlining a structure.

"i can handle visual synthesis," areum says. "i’ll make sure the flow of the presentation is clean."

"organization’s on me," taerae adds. "i’ll tie everything together so it sounds like one voice."

"i’ll fact-check, compile data, and make sure we don’t miss any angles," ohseong says, already scrolling through academic databases.

you sink into your strength—research. critical thought. connecting the abstract with the concrete. the mind map expands into a tangled, beautiful web. your pencil scratches out subtopics, arrows, and small quotes.

taerae leans over occasionally. "this part—maybe tie it to perception versus reality? how we see ourselves versus how others see us online?"

you meet his gaze, surprised by how close he is. there’s the faint scent of soap and paper and something citrusy.

"that’s... a good link."

"figured you’d think so," he murmurs, voice tinged with a small laugh. his eyes linger a beat longer than necessary.

"you’re doing amazing," areum whispers, nudging your elbow. her smile is bright, encouraging. "this is coming together better than I expected."

"thanks," you murmur, feeling something unfamiliar—confidence, maybe—rising in your chest.

"found something," ohseong says, holding up his phone. "a case study on teens managing online personas. it’s solid."

"perfect," taerae replies. "send it to the group chat."

the table becomes a controlled chaos of highlighters, overlapping notes, stray pens, and half-sipped drinks. someone hums quietly under their breath. laughter bubbles up once or twice—light, easy. something about this feels different. less like school. more like building something real.

"this might actually be fun," areum says, stretching.

"we’re a balanced group," ohseong agrees. "no slackers."

taerae smirks. "and surprisingly focused. i was expecting someone to bail."

you raise a brow. "you mean me?"

he gasps in mock offense. "never. but if the shoe fits..."

areum giggles, and even ohseong smiles. your own lips twitch upward, a quiet laugh slipping free before you can stop it. taerae notices. he always notices.

"alright," ohseong says, tapping his watch. "we’ve got a direction. let’s assign individual tasks and reconvene in three days."

"same place?" taerae asks.

"works for me," areum says, gathering her pens.

"i’m in," ohseong replies.

taerae looks at you, expectant. "what about you?"

you hesitate only a second. "yeah. i’m in."

the group begins to disperse. areum and ohseong chat quietly about possible reference articles. taerae lingers near you as you close your notebook.

"hey," he says, low and a little unsure. you pause.

"yeah?"

he glances at you, then away. "you surprised me today."

"how so?"

"you opened up. not a lot. just... more than usual."

you shrug. "maybe i care about good grades."

he laughs under his breath. "sure. maybe."

the library doors swing open with a soft creak. outside, the late afternoon light has turned golden, shadows stretching long across the hall. the silence between you is gentle, expectant.

you don’t look back as you walk away, but you feel the tension between you, strung taut and humming. a thread pulled tight.

two weeks.

a lot can happen in two weeks.

the morning light pours through the tall windows like honey, thick and golden, illuminating the long corridor ahead of you. shadows stretch across the waxed floors, reflecting a soft sheen, and the scent of lemon-scented polish clings faintly to the air. the school hums with motion—lockers bang open and shut, sneakers squeak across linoleum, and the ever-present drone of teenage conversation floats like smoke through the air. your fingers tighten around the edges of your books, the corners digging into your chest like a quiet reminder not to drop your guard.

you tell yourself it’s just another day. just classes. just a group assignment. but the thoughts from yesterday echo too loudly in your head—the ease of the conversation, the way taerae had stayed a little longer than he had to, the glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes. you try to focus on your steps, on the path ahead, but your mind keeps wandering.

then—without warning—you round the corner near the science wing and walk straight into someone.

a startled gasp escapes your lips. your books jolt, slipping slightly, and your shoulder hits something solid. you’re met with warmth and motion, and then the two of you freeze in place.

"oh—sorry," he says quickly, hands lifting instinctively like he might catch you, though he never quite touches you. his voice is low, hushed, as if afraid to break something delicate between you.

it’s taerae.

your eyes meet his, and everything else falls into silence. his usual confident grin is gone, replaced by a more uncertain expression—like he’s just realized he stepped into the wrong scene in a dream. his gaze holds yours for a beat too long, then flickers away, searching your face like he’s trying to read a word scribbled faintly in the margin.

"i didn’t see you there," he adds, voice still velvet-soft. you can barely hear it over the hallway’s commotion, but somehow, it reaches you clearly.

"me neither," you manage, your own voice uneven. your heart beats faster, too fast for something so small.

his lips twitch—barely. a shadow of a smile. then it’s gone, like it was never meant to be there. around you, the hallway flows with students rushing to class, laughter bouncing off the lockers, footsteps echoing like waves. still, neither of you moves.

taerae glances back at the tide of people behind him, then at you again. "i... guess i’ll see you later."

"yeah," you say, though your voice is thin, almost swallowed by the noise.

and then he’s gone. swept up in the stream of bodies, his figure disappearing around the corner like a dropped note carried away by wind. you’re left standing still, the echo of your collision still resonating in your bones.

"hey," a familiar voice cuts through the murmur of the crowd.

you turn your head. areum is making her way toward you, eyes wide and curious, eyebrows lifted slightly. she falls into step beside you, head tilting just enough to show she saw everything.

"that looked like quite a moment," she says, nudging you lightly. "you okay?"

you nod, but it feels like a lie. "yeah. just… didn’t expect to see him."

she gives you a gentle, knowing smile. "he looked surprised too. kinda like he’d seen a ghost."

"he apologized," you murmur.

"taerae? apologizing? wow. are we in the same universe?" she grins, then softens. "but seriously. he seemed... i don’t know. softer?"

you nod slowly. "he felt different. not like yesterday. not quite."

areum loops her arm through yours just as the bell rings above your heads—shrill and sharp like a chime dropped in water. "come on," she says. "you know how mr. lee gets when we’re late."

"yeah." your voice is barely more than breath.

you let her guide you forward, but your thoughts lag behind, still lingering in that half-second where his eyes had locked with yours, full of something you can’t name.

later that day, the cafeteria swells with noise. trays clatter, chairs scrape, and dozens of conversations tangle together into a messy, familiar hum. you sit across from areum, picking at your food without much interest. your tray holds a sandwich, an untouched apple, and a bottle of water that’s already sweating in the warmth.

areum watches you with a sideways smile, her head resting in her hand. "you’ve been zoning out all period," she says.

"have i?"

"mhm." she leans in. "so, tell me—what do you think that was?"

you blink. "what do you mean?"

"the hallway," she says, waving her hand. "taerae. the almost-collision. the awkward silence. the look."

"maybe he was just being polite."

"maybe," she says, but you can hear the disbelief in her tone. "or maybe he’s starting to notice you. like… really notice you."

you stare at your sandwich. "you think so?"

she shrugs. "he’s not as careless as people make him out to be. sometimes i think he pays attention in ways others don’t. quiet ways."

her words settle into your thoughts and sit there like stones dropped into still water.

by the time school ends, the sky outside is tinged with lavender. you find yourself back in the library, your usual corner still drenched in golden light. you sit, spreading your notes across the desk, but your focus drifts.

the mind map from yesterday catches your eye—digital identity. self-perception. versions of self. you run your fingertips along the branches, tracing the fragile connections like veins.

then, footsteps.

"is this seat taken?"

you look up.

taerae stands beside the chair across from you, backpack slung low, hair a little tousled. he holds a notebook, his fingers drumming softly on its cover.

"no," you say.

he slides into the chair, opens his notebook. "figured i’d get started. probably smart to be ahead for once."

"yeah. same."

for a few minutes, the only sound is the scratch of pen on paper and the occasional shuffle of pages. but the air between you feels different now—not tense, not distant. more like the hush before a song starts.

"you’re good at this," he says suddenly, still looking down. "the way you connect ideas. it’s impressive."

"thanks."

he glances up. "you don’t say much in class, but when you do, it lands."

you hesitate. "i just… i’m not always sure what’s worth saying."

"everything you say is worth something. at least, to me."

your stomach flips.

he shifts in his seat, then adds, more softly, "earlier today—sorry again. i didn’t mean to rush off. i just got caught up."

"i get it," you say, offering a small smile. "it’s okay."

he looks at you like he wants to say more, but instead he just nods. "still. i’m glad we ended up in the same group. it’s been... unexpected. but nice."

"yeah," you reply. "unexpected. but not bad."

and you return to your work, side by side in golden silence, the noise of the world falling away outside the walls of the library. the sun continues its descent, casting long beams of amber and rose through the windows, coloring the space between you.

and maybe, you think, just maybe—a single moment in a hallway isn’t always an accident. maybe it’s a beginning.

the hum of the classroom is steady and low, like the background score to a film you didn’t choose to star in. the fluorescent lights flicker every few seconds, casting faint halos on the glossy surface of your desk. the air smells faintly of old paper and dry-erase markers. your pencil moves in lazy loops across the margins of your notebook—doodles, half-formed ideas, fragments of thought not quite ready to become words.

outside the windows, the sky is a pale watercolor blue, clouds drifting slowly past like thoughts you haven’t named yet. the teacher’s voice drones on, a soft, unrelenting murmur about literary devices and comparative themes, the kind of voice that threads its way into your ears without ever touching your mind. students around you shift, scribble, stretch, yawn. someone sneezes. someone else whispers a joke that earns a stifled laugh. the sound of pencils scratching against paper is like rainfall on a tin roof—constant, repetitive, oddly calming.

your mind drifts.

your gaze wanders.

you find him again—taerae. three desks ahead, two rows over. he’s angled slightly in his chair, elbow propped on the desk, his cheek resting in his hand. his fingers curl near his temple, almost as if he’s shielding his thoughts from the world. the light hits the side of his face, catching in his lashes. his expression is different today—not unreadable, not guarded, but soft. maybe even lost.

he shifts, turning a page in his notebook. then—almost as if he feels it—his head lifts. his eyes meet yours.

you freeze.

not because you were caught, exactly. but because, for a breathless second, the connection is undeniable. his gaze holds yours, and in it is something raw and strangely vulnerable. his brow lifts slightly, a question without words. his lips twitch—not quite a smile, but not far from one either. it feels like he’s looking straight through you. not past you. not around you. through you. and the startling thing is—you let him.

he doesn’t look away.

a full second passes. then two. then three. your chest tightens, not with anxiety, but something quieter. something closer to hope.

and then he does smile. small. genuine. almost sad.

you glance down quickly, heart tapping at your ribs like it wants to be let out.

a moment later, a folded slip of paper slides across the space between desks. you blink, surprised. it lands neatly on the corner of your notebook. you look up—areum grins at you from one desk over, eyes sparkling.

"he’s so obvious," she mouths, barely moving her lips.

you stifle a sigh, but can’t help the small smile that edges into your lips. you unfold the note.

“do you ever feel like you’re pretending all the time?” it reads. the handwriting is neat. careful. familiar.

your head lifts just enough to find taerae again. he’s back in his notes, but his hand tightens around his pen. his foot taps lightly against the floor, like he’s waiting for something.

yes, you write back. sometimes it’s the only way to breathe.

you slide the note to the edge of your desk, not daring to pass it directly. but taerae is watching. the paper disappears.

a minute passes. then five.

another note returns.

“do you think anyone really knows who we are?”

your chest aches a little at the question. you look at him. this time, he doesn’t look away. his eyes ask everything his words can’t.

no, you write. but i think maybe some people want to.

he reads it. he exhales. his shoulders drop slightly, the tiniest shift. like something inside him just softened.

the bell rings.

students begin to stir, shuffle, rise. the classroom breathes out all at once. chatter fills the space. chairs scrape against the floor. the teacher’s voice fades beneath the rustle of movement. you stay seated a moment longer, fingers still curled around your pencil.

taerae lingers too.

he stands slowly, gathering his things with practiced ease. then, as if pulled by some invisible thread, he drifts toward your desk.

"hey," he says. his voice is lower now, meant just for you.

"hi."

he hesitates. his bag slung over one shoulder, his free hand fidgeting with the strap. "those notes... i wasn’t sure if i should’ve written them."

"i’m glad you did."

his eyes search yours again. up close, there’s a flicker of something behind them. not quite fear. more like... yearning.

"sometimes i feel like i’m playing a part. all the time. and i don’t even know when it started."

"it’s exhausting, isn’t it?"

he laughs under his breath. "you have no idea."

you tilt your head. "maybe i do."

he smiles at that. really smiles. it lights up his face in a way that’s almost too much to look at. his hand brushes against the corner of your desk, like he wants to reach out but doesn’t know how.

"we should talk more," he says, voice gentle. "not just about assignments. or... whatever."

"okay."

there’s a pause. the hallway is louder now, students spilling out from other classrooms, voices bouncing off the walls. but in this moment, it feels like the two of you are still wrapped in the hush of that shared glance.

areum appears in the doorway, watching the two of you. her smile is subtle, but it’s there.

taerae glances back at the classroom, then at you. "i’ll see you later?"

"yeah."

and just before he turns to leave, he adds, "thanks. for being real."

you don’t reply. not with words. but your smile, quiet and honest, says enough.

as the classroom empties and the hallway fills with voices and footsteps, that small, unspoken thing between you remains. delicate. uncertain. and entirely real. and even as you pack up your things and follow the crowd, the warmth of that connection lingers—like light after a storm, soft and slow and full of promise.

the morning air is cool against your skin as you walk through the front gates, a hush of wind tugging at your sleeves. it feels different today, though nothing has changed. the same cluster of students gather beneath the tall windows, the same birds chatter overhead. but something in your chest hums with a quiet anticipation.

you don’t know why you’re holding your breath until you’re at your locker, fingers brushing the cold metal, and you see it—tucked just beneath your history textbook, peeking out like a secret waiting to be found.

a folded note.

small, square, and cream-colored. the paper is slightly textured, almost delicate. you glance quickly down both ends of the hallway. students are lost in their routines, lost in their own mornings. no one is looking at you.

you unfold it with slow fingers.

some moments are meant to be cherished.

the words are written in neat, soft handwriting. familiar, maybe. thoughtful, definitely. the kind of handwriting that takes its time. there's something about it that warms your chest, even as your fingers tremble slightly.

"hey, you okay?"

areum’s voice is gentle, laced with the same concern she always carries for you. she leans against the locker beside yours, her eyes flicking to the note in your hand.

"what’s that?"

"i... found it just now. someone left it."

she tilts her head, smiling knowingly. "someone’s got a poetic streak. any guesses?"

you shake your head, though taerae’s face flickers across your thoughts. not because you’re sure—it’s just that his voice has started echoing in your head lately, soft and unguarded. the memory of his eyes holding yours in class, the quiet smile, the folded notes. it lingers.

"another mystery," areum says brightly. "your life’s turning into a romance novel."

"you think it’s taerae?"

"could be," she says, shrugging. "or maybe someone else entirely. maybe a quiet poet who’s been in your orbit this whole time."

"you’re having too much fun with this."

"and you’re pretending you’re not."

she winks and steps away with a laugh, disappearing into the stream of students headed to first period. you linger a moment longer, rereading the note before folding it carefully and slipping it into the back pocket of your notebook.

the day unfolds like a slow bloom. between second and third period, you pause at the bulletin board to check for a field trip signup—and there, beneath the edge of a flyer, another note.

what if every small moment matters more than we think?

you scan the hall again. nothing. no eyes locked on you. no knowing smiles. whoever this is, they’re good.

in english class, your thoughts are restless. the teacher’s talking about metaphor and tone, but your mind is busy weaving questions. your hand finds the corner of your notebook and tears a small square.

why me?

you don’t know why you write it. you don’t know who it’s meant for. but you fold it anyway and keep it.

after lunch, just as you’re about to unzip your pencil case, something falls from the side pocket. your breath catches. another note.

you look for answers in the quiet. i think that’s beautiful.

your fingers tighten around the slip of paper. it’s not just admiration. it’s understanding. like someone sees something in you you’ve barely admitted to yourself. like they’ve been paying attention to the spaces between your words.

you catch taerae’s gaze across the cafeteria. he's laughing at something ohseong says, but there’s a delay. like his eyes linger on you before he turns back to his friend. he doesn't smile this time. he just looks. steady. thoughtful.

areum leans in again, nudging you. "another one?"

you nod.

"you’re glowing."

"am i?"

"you are," she grins. "it’s sweet. honestly, it makes the whole day feel lighter."

"it’s weird... i don’t even know who it is, but it’s like they know me."

"maybe they do. or maybe they just see the parts of you you don’t show often."

the last class of the day stretches with the lethargy of afternoon light. your teacher’s voice drifts in and out. the sunlight pools across your desk. you open your notebook, tracing your fingers over the folded notes tucked safely in the back.

you wonder about the hand that wrote them. the moments they must’ve planned this—the care it must’ve taken to place them where you’d find them. it’s not just admiration. it’s intention. it’s quiet affection turned into ritual.

the bell rings, and the hallways flood with footsteps and chatter. you walk slower than usual, hoping—maybe—for one last message. one more moment.

and you find it. right outside the library door, slipped beneath a display of new releases.

you don’t have to say anything. i just wanted you to know someone sees you.

you stare at the words, your breath caught in your throat. it’s not dramatic. not cinematic. but something in you shifts.

and then:

"you found it."

you spin around.

taerae stands there, hands in his pockets, gaze unreadable. but his voice—his voice is soft. hopeful.

"you?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nods. "i wasn’t sure if it was okay. but after our last conversation... i wanted to try. to be real. to be honest."

you hold up the last note. "you’ve been writing these all day?"

"yeah. i wasn’t going to say anything yet. i thought maybe you’d figure it out. or maybe you wouldn’t. i just wanted you to feel seen. because i know what it’s like to go through a whole day feeling invisible."

your heart pounds.

"why me?" you ask again. this time, not into paper. to him.

he smiles. not the charming grin everyone sees. it’s softer. gentler.

"because you listen. because you see people. because when you look at someone, it feels like you’re really looking. and i guess... i hoped you might look at me like that too."

you don't know what to say. not at first. so you don’t.

you reach into your notebook and hand him the folded note you wrote earlier.

why me?

he opens it. reads it. then looks back at you.

"because... some moments are meant to be cherished. and you—this—you’re one of them."

the hallway grows quieter around you. students thin out. lockers close.

you don’t move. neither does he.

the silence between you feels full. not awkward. not uncertain. just waiting.

"so," he says, tucking your note into his jacket pocket, "can i walk you out?"

you nod.

and as you both step into the fading afternoon light, side by side, the mystery no longer feels like a question. it feels like a beginning.

the morning sunlight filters through the windows of classroom 3-b in slanted golden bars, striping the desks like quiet reminders of passing time. taerae sits near the back, one arm propped lazily against the window frame, though nothing about him feels relaxed. his gaze is distant, trained on a cluster of students gathered near the lockers outside. specifically, on you. and on matthew.

they're laughing. it's soft, nothing flashy, but the way you tilt your head when you smile—taerae knows that look. he’s seen it, felt it, in those quiet moments you two have shared. and now, someone else is on the receiving end of it. someone who doesn’t have to sacrifice anything to make it happen. someone who can just be.

"you've been staring for like five minutes. want me to draw you a picture?" ohseong drops into the seat beside him, cracking open a packet of instant coffee and dumping it into his water bottle like he’s done this a thousand times, shaking it with practiced flicks of his wrist.

taerae doesn’t blink. his eyes don’t leave the window. "was i?"

"painfully obvious. subtlety's not your strong suit today," ohseong mutters, taking a sip of the bitter mixture with a grimace. "what's going on with you lately? you've been acting like your brain's buffering."

taerae exhales, long and slow, pressing his thumb to his temple. "i don’t know. it’s like... i keep doing the math and it never adds up."

"math? since when do you do math voluntarily?"

"not numbers. life. them. me. this whole... thing." he gestures vaguely at the window, at you and matthew. "i feel like i’m two people right now. one who wants to keep things simple, and one who’s... tired of pretending."

ohseong quiets, serious now. he leans back, letting the bottle rest on the edge of the desk. "is this about the notes? about them?"

taerae nods. barely. "i want to talk to her. i want to be honest. but every time i get close, it feels like i’m betraying some unspoken rule."

"whose rule?"

"my dad's. this school. my friends. myself, maybe."

"you know," ohseong says, tapping the bottle lightly against the desk, "when you start listing off people you’re trying not to disappoint and you include yourself last, something's already broken."

taerae looks at him, and for the first time in a while, he looks truly young. not the curated, confident boy people know, but the tired kid behind the act, the one who barely knows which mask he’s wearing anymore.

"you remember last year," he begins, voice low and steady like he's reading from an old script etched into his bones. "when we were doing that fundraiser, and i disappeared for a week?"

"yeah. everyone said you had the flu."

taerae shakes his head. "i was in the hospital. not for me. for my brother."

ohseong stiffens, his grip tightening around the bottle.

"he ran away from home, ohseong. and no one knew. not even me. and when we found him he was horribly sick from the environmental conditions, my dad panicked. said if people found out, it would reflect badly. ruin my chances of a student council recommendation, the family name, all that bullshit."

"jesus."

"so i kept smiling. made jokes. went back to practice like nothing happened. everyone bought it, too. 'taerae's back!' they said. 'still the same as ever.'"

he laughs, but it's hollow, like wind echoing through a forgotten hallway.

"but i wasn't. and now i don't even know who the hell i'm supposed to be."

ohseong says nothing for a moment, just leans forward, elbows on knees. "maybe it doesn’t matter who you were. maybe it matters who you choose to be now."

the bell rings, but neither of them moves. the classroom empties around them, chairs scraping, footsteps fading.

later, in the cafeteria, taerae moves through the motions like a ghost. he grabs a tray, nods at jokes, high-fives a teammate. his laughter is a little too loud, like he's trying to drown something out—something gnawing, persistent.

and then, he sees it.

you and matthew.

the way matthew leans close when he speaks. the way you smile up at him like you’re not just hearing his words but feeling them. there's no hesitation in matthew. no fear. he doesn’t have to choose between versions of himself just to be near you. he just is.

taerae sets down his tray, untouched, his appetite vanishing like fog under sun.

"you okay?" one of his teammates asks, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"yeah," he lies. "just not hungry."

he walks out of the cafeteria, the chatter behind him blurring into white noise, the clatter of trays and laughter melting into something shapeless and distant.

he ends up in the music room, door closed, blinds drawn. it smells like wood polish and worn sheet music. the piano waits quietly in the corner like it’s been holding its breath. taerae sits on the bench, fingers hovering over the keys. he doesn't play. he just breathes. in. out. slow.

a knock comes. soft. hesitant.

"it's open," he says, not looking up.

ohseong steps in, tosses him a canned drink. "thought you might need this."

taerae catches it. "thanks."

they sit in silence for a while, the kind that stretches and settles without asking permission.

"i saw them," taerae says, finally.

"matthew and y/n?"

"yeah. they looked... real. effortless."

"you can't compare your behind-the-scenes to someone else’s highlight reel."

taerae huffs. "it wasn't a reel. it was a full movie. indie, award-winning, critically acclaimed."

ohseong grins a little. "you jealous?"

"i don't know. maybe. but not of him."

"of what, then?"

"of the way he doesn't have to split himself in two just to care. of the way he gets to be exactly who he is without having to ask anyone for permission."

"maybe it's time you stopped splitting. maybe you’re allowed to be both. or neither. just... yourself."

taerae runs a hand through his hair, the motion rough. "what if i lose everything? the friends, the respect, the image... my dad’s approval?"

"what if you don’t? what if the people who matter... stay?"

taerae doesn't answer. he stares at the piano keys like they're a map and he's forgotten how to read.

outside, the day moves on. clouds drift, students laugh, bells ring. but inside taerae, something shifts.

not a decision.

not yet.

but the beginning of one.

the afternoon sunlight pools gently through the library windows, the warmth a soft contrast to the sterile hum of old computers and fluorescent lights. you're seated at the large table in the corner—the one usually reserved for group projects—flanked by areum, taerae, and ohseong. textbooks lie open, highlighters scattered across the table like fallen petals, but the energy is fractured, disjointed. taerae’s eyes skim the same sentence three times without registering it.

"so," areum chirps, tapping her pen against her lip, "we’re still on the third section?"

"almost done," taerae replies automatically, but his voice lacks the usual spark. you notice the way his fingers fidget with the edge of the worksheet, folding it back and forth, like his mind is somewhere far from here.

he’s usually so polished, his demeanor wrapped tight like the hem of a school uniform blazer—neat, composed, always the center of gravity. but today, that composure is fraying at the edges. you watch him shift in his seat for the fifth time in ten minutes, glancing toward the windows, toward the exit, toward nowhere.

"you okay?" you ask, your voice quiet enough to almost disappear under the hum of the air conditioning.

he looks up. too quickly. smiles. too easily. "yeah, of course. just tired."

there’s something rehearsed about it. like muscle memory, like he’s used to this line.

you nod, not convinced. there’s something hollow in his grin, like a carefully placed mask. you go back to annotating your paragraph, but you keep watching him from the corner of your eye. the way his knee bounces under the table. the way his jaw clenches when ohseong elbows him with a joke that barely lands.

"hey," taerae mutters to ohseong, his voice low. "come with me for a sec. i need help finding that reference book."

"again? we literally—" ohseong pauses mid-sentence, catching the look in taerae’s eyes. a silent exchange happens between them. ohseong stands. "right. yeah. back in a bit."

they disappear between the tall shelves. you tap your pencil against your notebook, pretending to write. silence blooms at the table like fog settling over the morning.

"he’s acting weird, right?" you whisper to areum.

"you noticed it too," she says, lowering her voice with a conspiratorial smirk. "his eyes look all stormy. definitely something going on."

"i don’t want to pry."

"you wouldn’t be. he clearly trusts you. maybe he just doesn’t know how to say it."

you hesitate. "still. i think i should let him talk if he wants to."

"or," she says with a mischievous grin, "we create the perfect opening."

"areum—"

"shhh. they’re coming back."

you barely have time to protest before the two boys reappear. taerae's shoulders look tenser than before, like whatever words passed between them only added weight to the ones already there. ohseong doesn’t say anything, but his gaze lingers on taerae with quiet concern.

"ohseong," areum says, standing suddenly and nudging him with a practiced urgency, "come help me find that marker set we saw the other day. the neon ones. remember?"

"wait—what? now?"

"yes. now. urgent creative crisis. come on."

she tugs his sleeve. ohseong glances back at taerae, then at you, then sighs. "fine, fine. neon markers. the fate of our project depends on them."

they disappear into the maze of shelves again, their footsteps quickly fading.

you and taerae are left in the quiet. it’s not the sterile kind of quiet from before. it hums now, thick with unsaid things.

"you don’t have to talk about anything," you say, fiddling with the cap of your pen. "i just... you’ve seemed different lately. and i guess i just wanted to say that you don’t have to carry that alone."

he exhales slowly, like the air is heavier than before. "i’ve been trying to keep it together. keep up appearances."

"it’s okay not to."

taerae lowers himself into his seat, fingers laced together. he stares at the notepad in front of him like it holds answers he’s not ready to read. "i’m not brave enough for that. being open. vulnerable. i don’t know how to do that without feeling like i’ll fall apart."

"there’s beauty in imperfection, you know," you say gently.

his eyes flicker toward yours. "what do you mean?"

"i mean... we both live under expectations, right? people assume things based on who we are. who we appear to be. you have your social world, and i’m... the quiet one. but there’s more to both of us than that. maybe it’s okay to let the cracks show. maybe that’s how we let light in."

taerae leans back slightly, gaze not leaving yours. his voice is quieter now. "you always speak like that?"

"like what?"

"like you’ve got all this... quiet wisdom tucked behind your eyes."

you shrug, a little flustered, but you hold his gaze. "maybe. i just think too much."

"or maybe you see more than most people."

you look down at your notes, pretending to adjust a paperclip, trying to ignore the sudden warmth in your cheeks.

a moment passes. then—

"truth or dare?" he asks, his tone lighter, teasing.

you blink. "neither."

he groans, leaning back dramatically, but there’s a chuckle beneath it. "you always say that. you said you’d choose next time."

"no, i said maybe."

"i’m still trying to figure you out."

you meet his eyes again, steady this time. "you’re a nice person, taerae. but i don’t think you’ll manage that before the other two get back."

he smiles. not the practiced, public smile he wears like a badge, but something softer. something true. "maybe not. but i think i’d like to try."

the silence between you isn’t silence anymore. it breathes. it holds space.

"you’re not what i expected," he murmurs.

"neither are you."

and then comes the laughter, distant at first—areum’s bright and unmistakable, ohseong’s grumbling—and then they’re back, arms overflowing with markers, novelty pens, and at least one fuzzy eraser shaped like a cat.

"mission accomplished!" areum declares, grinning. "we are now fully equipped for academic greatness."

"we’re gonna fail in style," ohseong adds, tossing a neon pen onto the table.

taerae glances at you one last time, something quieter and deeper behind his eyes.

something that says thank you without needing to speak it.

and you— you think this might be the beginning of something real.

the next morning, the hallways buzz with the usual chatter, sneakers squeaking on polished tile, lockers slamming open and shut like a rhythm no one consciously hears anymore. you make your way through the crowd, trying not to focus too much on the little hollow feeling gnawing somewhere under your ribs, like a soft bruise hidden just under the skin.

you pause at your locker, fingers hesitating over the dial. the numbers blur a little as you glance down the corridor and spot taerae. he’s surrounded, laughter bubbling around him from the center of his popular clique. he leans against the lockers, one foot propped casually, tossing a stress ball from one hand to the other as if yesterday never happened. his voice is animated, alive in a way that feels both familiar and distant. when your eyes meet, something flickers—recognition, maybe. but he doesn’t wave. he doesn’t smile. he just watches for a second too long before someone nudges his arm and pulls his attention away.

your fingers tighten around the locker handle. the warmth from yesterday’s conversation feels like a fading echo. that moment in the library had meant something to you. had it meant something to him?

"hey," a voice says beside you, pulling you back to the present. it’s matthew.

you blink at him, trying to reorient. "hey."

he watches you a moment, head tilted. "you alright? you seemed a bit... off yesterday. didn’t really get a chance to say much."

you shrug, eyes drifting back toward taerae and his orbit. "i don’t really wanna talk about it."

"totally fair." matthew’s voice is easy, calm. he doesn’t press. he just stands there with his hands in his pockets, gaze steady. "just thought i’d check in. you looked like someone who could use a lifeline."

you nod, appreciative of the quiet understanding. silence sits comfortably between you for a few seconds until a laugh bursts nearby—sharp, theatrical. taerae’s group is moving closer down the hall, their magnetic energy pulling the attention of everyone they pass like a slow wave.

taerae is right there, but it feels like he’s on the other side of a glass wall. his expression is carefully curated again, polished like the smile he wears when he knows eyes are on him. but those eyes are on you now. watching you beside matthew.

a shift in the air. tension, subtle but unmistakable.

before you can say anything, matthew’s group starts arriving. rebels, outsiders, the ones who laugh too loudly in class and write quotes on their sleeves. a girl with electric blue streaks in her hair tosses a grin in your direction.

"yo matthew. who’s this?"

"this’s the one i told you about," he replies. "quiet storm. they’ve got poetry in their bones."

you laugh, surprised by the compliment.

"we could use someone with brains," the girl adds, elbowing him.

and then—like a storm front colliding—taerae’s clique halts nearby. the two groups lock eyes across the space between them. it’s like oil meeting water. tension, unspoken and electric.

"you gonna recruit every quiet soul you find?" minseok asks, arms crossed, tone pointed.

matthew smirks. "just the ones with actual depth."

"you sure they want to be around your little band of misfits?"

"maybe they don’t want to be another accessory in your curated high school fantasy," matthew says coolly, not missing a beat.

you feel your heart beating in your ears. your gaze flickers between them—between the messy, authentic chaos of matthew’s circle and the perfectly polished frame of taerae’s world. your eyes land on taerae. he’s quiet, jaw tense. but he’s still watching you. his silence is louder than anything else in the hallway.

"we should go," taerae finally mutters to his group. "this is dumb."

but he doesn’t move. his friends start to drift, uncertain, throwing glances back. you wait—for a look, for a word. anything.

nothing comes.

matthew nudges your shoulder gently. "we were gonna hit this cafe after school. the one with the floor pillows and the bad poetry on the walls. it’s kinda great. no pressure, but... you’re welcome."

you hesitate. you could stay. you could wait for taerae to do something, say something. but how many times can you reach out before your hand is left empty?

you nod. "okay."

matthew’s smile is soft. "cool. there’s always room for more at our table."

the girl with the blue streaks slings an arm around your shoulder like you’ve always belonged. their group moves with a fluid rhythm, like they don’t need permission to be who they are.

you glance one last time at taerae. he stands there, frozen. not saying a word.

and then you turn and walk away.

the world outside the school gates feels wider than the one behind. you and matthew talk about books and music, and he tells you about how they once held a protest by sitting in silence on the steps of the school for a full hour.

"weirdest protest ever," he laughs. "but it worked. the principal actually asked to meet with us."

you laugh too, the sound unfamiliar and light. it’s not that the ache in your chest is gone. but with each step, it feels a little easier to breathe.

the cafe is small, tucked between a laundromat and a thrift shop. inside, it smells like cinnamon and old paper. the walls are plastered with poems written on napkins, some beautiful, some illegible, all passionate. mismatched cushions litter the floor, and you sit cross-legged, a warm mug in your hands.

they talk, and you listen. and slowly, you start to talk too. not because you’re expected to. but because you want to.

behind you, back at school, the image of taerae’s face lingers. but it’s distant now, like something viewed through rain-streaked glass.

maybe he’ll reach out. maybe he won’t.

but for now, you’ve found something that feels real.

and that’s enough.

the morning light filters through pale curtains, soft and indifferent to your mood. you wake with a heaviness that settles in your chest before your feet even touch the floor. school feels like a battlefield today, but instead of blood, it’s emotions that stain the ground—confusion, frustration, and disappointment.

you walk through the gates with your headphones in, letting music blur the chatter around you. everyone seems the same, but you’re not. not inside. your thoughts are tangled, raw threads knotted around taerae and every mixed signal he’s thrown your way. the hallway hums with energy, but you feel like a static ghost drifting through the noise.

areum finds you near the lockers. she spots the look on your face before you even say a word.

"okay," she says, dropping her bag beside yours, "what did he do now?"

you sigh, dragging a hand down your face. "it’s not even about what he did. it’s what he doesn’t do. he keeps acting like i matter in these tiny, almost-secret ways. but then the second he’s around his clique, it’s like none of that happened. like i didn’t happen."

areum nods, her brows knitting together. she leans against the locker beside yours and lets you vent.

"i’m so sick of it," you continue, voice low, brittle. "i don’t want to keep feeling like i’m making things up in my head. like maybe i imagined the way he looked at me. or the way he listened that day in the library."

"you didn’t imagine it," areum says firmly. "i saw the way he looked at you too. it wasn’t nothing. he just... he doesn’t know how to not be afraid. he’s trying to be everything for everyone and ends up being nothing to himself."

you shake your head. "then maybe he shouldn’t have started whatever this is."

before areum can answer, someone taps your shoulder. you turn to see matthew holding out a small chocolate bar, his smile soft, hesitant.

"you looked kinda down," he says. "was saving this for later, but i think you need it more than me."

you blink, surprised. "matthew, i—"

"no pressure," he says quickly, waving a hand like it’s no big deal. "just a chocolate bar. hope it helps."

"thank you," you murmur, taking it from him. his fingers brush yours just barely.

he nods once, gives you a small smile, and walks off, slipping through the corridor crowd with that easy grace of his, like he was never meant to interrupt—only to offer something quiet and kind.

as soon as he’s out of earshot, areum raises an eyebrow. "okay that was adorable. sweet and observant? i’m starting to like this guy."

you unwrap the chocolate slowly, trying to ignore the heat crawling up your neck.

"it’s awkward," you mumble. "his group and taerae’s are basically sworn enemies. and now he’s just... being nice? out of nowhere?"

"i’m team rebel," areum declares, leaning her shoulder against yours. "at least matthew’s consistent. that wasn’t a mixed signal. he saw you. he noticed. and he didn’t overthink whether it was allowed. he just did something good. simple as that."

you roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth lifts slightly as you bite into the chocolate. it melts slowly, bittersweet on your tongue, grounding you just enough to take a full breath. there’s something strangely comforting in the way it sticks to your teeth a little.

"it doesn’t fix anything," you say quietly.

"no," she agrees. "but sometimes it’s the little kindnesses that keep us from falling apart. tiny moments of honesty in a world full of performative smiles."

you lean back against the lockers beside her. students walk past in a blur. conversations rise and fall like waves. but for a moment, the world quiets around you. it’s just you, areum, and the echo of a kind gesture in the shape of sugar and cocoa.

"what if i just stopped caring?" you whisper, the words heavier than you expect.

areum glances at you, her eyes full of warmth. "do you want to?"

you think about it. really think about it. about how easy it would be to just shut off, to close the door inside you that still hopes he’ll choose you over comfort, over popularity. but the truth is, you do care. and that might be the hardest part.

"no," you say finally. "i don’t want to stop caring. i just want it to make sense. i want someone to see me and not run away when it stops being convenient."

"then hold on to that. but don’t wait around for him to decide if you matter. people make time for what they care about. they don’t make excuses. and you? you deserve someone who doesn’t make you feel like a question mark."

you nod, chewing thoughtfully. your gaze flickers down the hall where taerae usually lingers. he isn’t there right now, and maybe that’s for the best. maybe space is what you need. or maybe it’s what he needs to figure out what he’s really willing to risk.

areum doesn’t say anything else. she just stands there with you, like she’s holding your frustration so you don’t have to carry all of it alone.

you close your eyes for a moment. let the noise fade. let the weight in your chest shift, just slightly. the chocolate is gone, the taste still lingering like a memory you’re not quite ready to let go of.

when you open your eyes again, the hallway hasn’t changed. but you feel steadier. more rooted.

"thanks," you say, voice soft.

areum smiles. "always."

and somehow, in the midst of the chaos, the rumors, the aching uncertainty—you don’t feel quite so alone.

the sky hangs over the school like a sigh held too long, weighed with clouds that never quite burst. the courtyard is quieter today, the edges of winter creeping into the air. even the laughter sounds subdued, as if the world itself knows that something has shifted beneath the surface.

in a tucked-away corner of the school near the art rooms, taerae and ohseong sit on the stone bench beneath the skeletal branches of a leafless tree. their breath puffs in the cool morning air, and taerae’s knee bounces restlessly, betraying the calm front he tries to wear like a second skin.

"so," ohseong says, breaking the silence with a raised brow, "you gonna talk about it, or do i have to keep playing mind reader?"

taerae exhales slowly, his fingers tugging at a frayed thread on his sleeve. he doesn’t look up right away. he hates how obvious he's been.

"you mean about her?"

"you know exactly what i mean. i thought you liked y/n. like, real feelings—not just a passing thing."

taerae lets out a slow, uneven breath. "i do. i really do. but... the group—"

"ugh, the group," ohseong interrupts, waving a hand. "tae, come on. you’re not like them. never have been. they’re just louder about pretending. you’ve always been quieter about it, but that doesn’t mean you’re not pretending too."

taerae winces, glancing off toward the distant noise of the school building. "it’s not just about pretending. i’ve built something with them. a reputation. influence. you think that’s easy to just walk away from?"

"nah, it’s not easy. it’s just necessary," ohseong says, leaning back. "you’re clinging to comfort like it’s a life raft. but that comfort’s draining the color out of you, piece by piece. i see it. every time you look over at y/n like your whole day depends on whether they smile at you or not. then you turn around and laugh with the group, like you didn’t just die a little inside."

taerae is quiet for a moment. the wind stirs fallen leaves at their feet, brushing their ankles like hesitant fingertips.

"we talked," he says finally. "during that group session. when areum dragged you off."

"figured something happened. you both looked different after. like something cracked open."

"she... saw through me. really saw me. said we were similar. both caught between who we are and who we’re supposed to be. i didn’t even know how to respond. it scared me how easy it was to be honest with her, how fast it all made sense. and i didn’t know how to let that be real."

"you liked that she saw you," ohseong says gently. "and you hated it. because it meant you couldn’t keep hiding. not from her. not from yourself."

taerae nods slowly, eyes fixed on the ground.

"so why the distance? why freeze her out?"

"because i don’t know how to be both. i want to hold on to what i’ve built, but i also want something real. with her. with them. but it’s like i have to choose."

"sometimes you do have to choose. that’s life," ohseong replies. "but let me be real with you. most of the people in your clique? they’re peaking in high school. this is as good as it gets for them. but you... you’ve got more in you, tae. only if you stop performing."

taerae’s brows furrow. "more how?"

"more heart. more vision. more of the stuff that actually matters. but you’re burning it trying to keep up appearances. and for what? validation from people who wouldn’t even notice if you disappeared from their group chats tomorrow?"

taerae doesn’t respond. the truth sits between them like a heavy fog.

"do you think y/n liked me back?" he asks finally, voice barely audible.

"i think she does like you," ohseong says. "but you made it really hard for her to show it. that day you pulled away, left them standing while matthew stepped in? what did you expect her to do? wait around for breadcrumbs while you posed for pictures with people who don’t see you?"

taerae’s jaw tightens. "matthew... he’s part of that rebel group. i thought maybe they’d hurt her. maybe i was protecting her."

"dude, no. matthew’s the only one who’s been straightforward. he’s been there when you weren’t. and let’s be honest: the rebel group might be intense, but at least they’re real. the worst they’ll do is argue with you. your group? they’ll smear you behind your back while smiling to your face. y/n probably felt safer with him, not because he’s perfect, but because he wasn’t pretending."

taerae closes his eyes for a second, pressing his palms together like he’s holding something fragile.

"i don’t want her to get hurt."

"then stop hurting her with your silence. she put herself out there. you didn’t meet her halfway. vulnerability’s a two-way street."

taerae’s hands tighten. "but what if i open up and she’s moved on? what if she’s done waiting?"

"then you’ll know you tried. but this—this waiting in the shadows stuff—it’s not bravery. it’s fear disguised as patience. she deserves more than uncertainty. and so do you."

the bell rings in the distance. students begin to filter inside, their chatter rising as the cold morning gives way to routine.

taerae stands slowly, his shoulders heavy with the weight of truths too long unspoken. he looks toward the main building, where he knows you’ll be, somewhere between the noise and the silence.

"i’m scared," he says quietly.

"good," ohseong replies, standing beside him. "fear means it’s real. now go do something real."

they walk together, side by side, through the chill and the chaos. but this silence is different—it hums with anticipation, with decisions waiting to be made.

the stakes are no longer background noise. they’re the heartbeats between each step. the difference between being seen and being remembered.

and for the first time, taerae thinks he might finally be ready to stop pretending—and start becoming.

the classroom felt colder today, though the heater hummed quietly in the background. sunlight barely filtered through the frosted windows, casting a pale light across the desks where your group of four sat in a crooked square. the project on digital identity glowed dully on the shared tablet screen in front of you, but none of you seemed particularly focused on it.

areum sat close to your side, legs crossed, her fingers idly tapping her pen against her notebook. her presence was grounding, even in silence. across from you, taerae and ohseong mirrored the closeness, though something about taerae's posture felt restless, like he wanted to close the space between you all but didn’t quite know how. his eyes flickered toward you every few moments, always quickly darting away when they met yours.

"so," ohseong finally broke the stillness, his voice light but not quite carefree, "we need to finalize the media portion today, right? taerae, you were working on that digital footprint comparison?"

taerae nodded, tapping his screen to bring up the visual timeline he’d put together. "yeah, i’ve got the graphs and timeline structure set up. just need to overlay some quotes and analysis. i was thinking we could use some of y/n’s points from last week. they were good."

you looked up at him, caught off guard. it was the first time he’d directly referenced something of yours in this session. "oh... sure," you replied carefully. "if it fits the structure."

he smiled a little—small, hesitant. "it does. i double-checked. it made sense, what you said about the curated versus candid self. it kind of stuck with me."

"thanks," you said, your voice quieter than you expected. there was something in his tone, something too sincere, that made your stomach twist.

he held your gaze for a second longer than necessary, then looked down quickly, his fingers brushing nervously against the side of his tablet.

"we should start dividing the final write-up," areum said, trying to fill the strange air that hung between you all. "we’re almost at the deadline."

as the conversation turned to logistics, taerae leaned in slightly every time you spoke, his responses more thoughtful than usual. he asked for your opinion on font choices, on which quotes to keep, even on color palettes—which was uncharacteristic for him, since he usually deferred to areum or ohseong for aesthetic choices. each time, it made your stomach tighten a little. you weren’t sure if it was nerves or something closer to ache.

"you okay?" areum whispered close to your ear when the others were distracted, her voice barely audible.

you nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. "it’s just weird. the vibe’s off. he’s being... too nice."

she raised an eyebrow. "too nice?"

"like, overly attentive. like he’s trying really hard."

"maybe he is. maybe he’s trying to make up for how things went down."

"yeah, but... i don’t know. it feels fake. or maybe i just don’t trust it yet."

on the other side of the table, taerae glanced at you when he thought you weren’t looking. he wanted to say something—he always looked like he was about to, then backed down at the last second. ohseong nudged him once, a subtle encouragement, but taerae only pressed his lips together, visibly conflicted.

you could tell he was struggling. it wasn’t the loud, obvious kind of performance. it was in the way his hands stayed too still, the way he kept stealing glances your way, the way his voice softened just slightly whenever it was directed at you.

"hey," he said suddenly, catching your attention again. "i was thinking about that conversation we had. the one about hiding our true selves. and i’ve been trying to show less of the filtered version of me. more of... the real me. even if it’s messy."

you blinked. "why?"

"because..." he hesitated. "because you were right. it’s easy to perform for everyone else. harder to be honest. and i think—i think i messed up by pretending things didn’t matter when they did. i think i messed up by pretending you didn’t matter."

your breath caught for just a moment. his words lingered longer than you expected them to.

"taerae..." your voice came out quieter than you intended.

"i know it might come off fake," he continued quickly, almost tripping over his words, "but i’m not trying to win you over or anything. i just—i don’t want to lose whatever this was. is. even if it’s awkward now. i want to fix it. i need to."

you looked down at the tablet screen. the timeline of identity flickered back at you, ironically fitting. curated selves versus raw truths. wasn’t that the same thing you were both tangled in?

"i don’t know what to say," you admitted. "part of me wants to believe you. another part is still upset. i don’t like mixed signals. i don’t like feeling like i was just an afterthought."

"i get that. and i don’t blame you. i was scared. i still am. i was trying so hard to be who everyone needed me to be, i forgot who i was when it was just me. and when i was with you, it felt like i didn’t have to pretend. and that scared me even more."

areum and ohseong exchanged a glance but didn’t interrupt. the air around the table stilled, like even the room was holding its breath.

taerae’s fingers tapped nervously against the side of his laptop. "but i’m trying now. really trying. even if it’s clumsy. even if i don’t know if it’ll be enough. i’d rather be messy and real than polished and distant. i want you to see me. really see me. and i want to see you too."

"then stop trying to be perfect," you said quietly. "no one needs you to be perfect. not me. not even your group. there’s something... more honest in imperfection."

taerae’s eyes softened. "you told me that before. that there’s beauty in imperfection."

you nodded.

"i didn’t believe it then. i think i do now."

the silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable this time. it was the kind of pause where something settled, even if just a little. a breath in the middle of a sentence. a comma, not a period.

"so," ohseong clapped his hands together, breaking the moment gently, "should we do a final run-through of the presentation? make sure we’re not all talking over each other again?"

"yeah," areum agreed, standing to grab her notes. "but this time, let’s maybe not get too philosophical mid-slide."

taerae chuckled softly. "no promises."

you offered him a small smile, still guarded, but it was something.

and for the rest of the session, taerae didn’t try too hard. he didn’t overcompensate. he just existed beside you, showing up in quiet ways—in the way he adjusted your mic levels, the way he double-checked your slides, the way he listened, fully and without distraction.

it wasn’t a grand gesture. it wasn’t sweeping or romantic. it was something quieter. something honest.

and maybe, just maybe, it was a start.

taerae sat on the edge of the leather couch in the living room, the plush cushions doing little to ease the stiffness in his shoulders. the chandelier above him flickered faintly, casting soft glows that danced across the marble floors and cold-toned walls. everything in the room was polished to perfection—the glass coffee table without a single fingerprint, the decorative vases lined up along the mantel like soldiers. and yet, none of it brought comfort. the air felt heavy, not because of heat, but because of expectation. his phone buzzed for the third time in a minute, face-down on the coffee table, lit up with messages from the group chat.

minseok: bro, where are you?? we’re gonna head to han river for pics

jungho: taerae don’t be lame, come onnn

minji: bring your dad’s car again lol

he sighed. he didn’t even want to look at the rest. instead, he just stared ahead, focusing on the faint ticking of the antique wall clock. the hands moved too slowly. his dad sat across from him in the armchair, legs crossed, reading some school-related newsletter printed in thick, glossy paper, occasionally flipping a page with a deliberate snap.

"you’ve been quiet," his dad said, not looking up. "how was the prep meeting for the next student council term?"

"it hasn’t been officially announced yet," taerae replied, tone practiced, smooth. "they’re keeping the results confidential until next week."

"well, let me know the moment you find out. you know how much it matters to the board. mr. kwon was asking about you yesterday. said you were a fine example of discipline. i don’t want to disappoint him. or the principal."

his father finally looked up, eyes sharp under the rim of his glasses. "remember, she’s not just the principal—she’s important to me. our reputation reflects directly on her too."

taerae nodded. "i’ll tell you as soon as i hear."

"that’s my boy. we have a name to maintain. you’ve done well so far. the kwons, the jeongs, the han family—all of them see you as the standard. we can’t afford any... dips in image."

taerae managed a polite, neutral smile. "of course."

his younger brother, jihwan, was curled in the corner of the couch, earbuds in and hoodie pulled up, face half hidden. he looked drained, his posture slumped like he was trying to fold into himself, shoulders hunched and head lowered.

"jihwan," their dad snapped, voice sharper now. "sit properly. you look like you just rolled out of bed. straighten up. we have guests visiting this week, and your demeanor reflects on the entire family."

jihwan flinched and sat up slightly, but didn’t say anything. his eyes stayed on the floor, and he adjusted the hem of his hoodie like it might shield him.

"we are not raising delinquents," their father continued. "you understand that, don’t you? taerae can manage himself—why can’t you follow his example?"

taerae’s stomach twisted. his brother didn’t respond, which only seemed to irritate their father further.

"answer me."

"i understand," jihwan mumbled.

"good. don’t embarrass this family. i’ve worked too hard for that. now, i have calls to take. taerae, keep an eye on your brother."

once their father disappeared into his study, the pressure in the room deflated just slightly. taerae let out a quiet breath, like he’d been holding it the whole time.

he shifted to face jihwan. "hey. you alright?"

"does it matter?"

"yeah," taerae said softly. "it does."

jihwan didn’t look at him, but his hands were clenched tight in his hoodie sleeves. "i’m just tired. i didn’t even say anything, but it’s like everything i do is wrong."

taerae leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "he doesn’t mean it like that. it’s just... he has expectations. and pressure. too much of it. he’s projecting it onto you. it’s not your fault."

"it feels like my fault."

"it’s not. you’re allowed to be tired. i am too."

jihwan finally looked at him. "you don’t act like it. you always have everything together. you say the right things. you’re always on top of stuff."

taerae gave a hollow laugh. "i fake it. every single day. i fake it so hard sometimes i forget what it feels like to not pretend."

"why do you do it, then?"

taerae hesitated. his phone buzzed again, and this time he flipped it over to see the screen.

jungho: we’re picking you up in 10

he stared at it for a second longer before replying with a simple:

taerae: ok

"because dad likes when i’m with those kids. their families have influence. it makes him feel like we’re secure. like we belong."

"but do you like them?"

taerae swallowed. "not always. they can be exhausting. it’s all about maintaining appearances. even when i’m with them, i don’t feel like i’m really there. i’m just... playing a role."

"then why do it?"

"because if i don’t, dad notices. and when he notices, he starts comparing. to me. to you. and i don’t want him turning all of that onto you again."

jihwan was quiet for a long moment. "i hate it. i hate all of it."

taerae reached out and ruffled his brother’s hair, something he hadn’t done in years. "me too, sometimes. but you don’t have to carry it the way i do. you’re still figuring yourself out. let me be the buffer, okay?"

jihwan’s eyes shimmered a little, but he didn’t let the tears fall. he just nodded, pressing the sleeve of his hoodie against his face.

taerae leaned back again, his head hitting the couch cushion. his phone buzzed again, and this time he didn’t look. instead, he stared at the ornate ceiling, wondering how long he could keep pretending. his fingers tightened around the edge of the cushion.

"i wish i could just... disappear sometimes. go somewhere no one knows who i am. no expectations. no roles. just... be."

"you could," jihwan said, voice muffled. "not forever, but... maybe with people who see you. the real you. not the version you’re forced to be."

taerae thought of you. of that moment during the group project when you said there was beauty in imperfection. when you looked at him like you actually saw through all the layers. it was frightening. and freeing. it was a glimpse of something he’d forgotten he needed.

"maybe," he whispered. "maybe."

jihwan’s breathing had evened out a little. taerae glanced toward the hallway, checking to make sure their father wasn’t about to come back in. the silence felt fragile, like it could break at any second.

"you want me to tell him you’re studying at the library later?"

jihwan nodded. "thanks."

taerae stood up and grabbed a blanket from the armrest, tossing it over his brother’s legs. "take a nap. i’ll handle it."

as he walked toward his room, his phone still buzzing in his hand, he felt the weight of both roles dragging behind him—dutiful son, popular friend. and somewhere underneath all of that, the raw version of himself he hadn’t figured out how to be fully yet.

but he knew where he felt closest to that version. he knew who made him feel like maybe, just maybe, it was okay not to have it all together.

and maybe... that would be enough to keep trying.

the hum of the classroom lights buzzed softly above you, just low enough to be noticed, just loud enough to irritate. your pen moved across the page at a steady pace, filling in each blank with confidence you weren’t even aware you had until now. the pressure in the room was palpable—midterm season always had that effect—but today felt especially thick. maybe it was the way mr. jang kept pacing behind the desks like a caged animal, his shoes clicking against the floor with a rhythm that betrayed his nerves, or maybe it was the small rivalry blooming between students who usually coasted just beneath the radar.

it didn’t matter. not today.

"oh," mr. jang said, pausing beside your desk. "you tackled this algorithm in a completely different way. smart. unexpected."

heads turned. not many, but enough. you didn’t lift your gaze until the rustling stopped. you offered a small smile. "thank you."

that was all it took. by the time class ended, whispers had already started. quiet kid. smart kid. under-the-radar genius. you weren’t sure if you liked it, but it was better than being invisible. the way their eyes lingered longer, more curious than before, unsettled something inside you.

taerae leaned over from the desk behind you, voice lowered. "that was seriously impressive. i’ve never seen anyone solve it that way."

you blinked at him, still unsure if he was joking. "it just made more sense that way."

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to figure out what else you were hiding. "you’re always full of surprises."

you weren’t sure how to respond, but before the moment could stretch too long, matthew passed by, giving you a grin. "yo, that was cool. you didn’t even hesitate."

"thanks," you said, voice softer than usual.

matthew raised his brows in a friendly way, like he meant it. "seriously. that kind of clarity? people spend years chasing it. good job."

you watched him walk off, backpack slung over one shoulder, easy and confident in a way that didn’t feel performative. beside you, areum leaned in with a quiet smirk.

"you’ve got the boys buzzing," she whispered.

"stop," you mumbled, nudging her with your elbow.

she only laughed, brushing her hair back as she spotted something across the room. "uh-oh. incoming."

you followed her gaze. ohseong was waving the both of you over, standing with taerae near the back of the room. the two of them looked strangely in sync—taerae with his usual calm expression and ohseong more animated, as if already mid-thought.

areum straightened, then walked a step ahead of you like a bodyguard. her posture was casual but firm, like she was ready to intercept any weird energy before it could reach you. it was something you were used to—her subtle way of saying, "i’ve got you."

"hey," ohseong said as you approached, his tone easy. "so, we’re meeting tomorrow for the final presentation, right? how’s everything looking on your end?"

"pretty much ready," areum said first, arms crossed. "just tightening up the visual references."

you nodded. "we’ve formatted the layout, and i finished the analysis part. i uploaded everything to the shared drive this morning."

taerae looked at you as you spoke, eyes lingering with a quiet focus. it was hard not to notice. you didn’t meet his gaze directly, but you could feel it anyway—like sunlight warming your skin without ever touching it.

"i added the notes to the shared doc," you added. "we just need to finalize the talking points."

"yeah, i saw those," taerae said. "they’re really clear. like, easier to follow than i expected."

"same," ohseong chimed in. "you worded it in a way that makes even the dry parts sound... not so dry. that’s rare."

"thanks," you said again, shifting your weight slightly. group conversations were fine. it was when the focus narrowed that everything felt too sharp.

"we should run through it once tonight," areum suggested, glancing between the three of you. "just to make sure timing’s right."

"agreed," taerae said, still watching you. "are you free later? we can call or something if meeting up isn’t possible."

you nodded slowly. "i’m free after seven."

"cool," ohseong said. "i’ll set something up in the chat. don’t ghost us."

"i never ghost," you said under your breath.

areum gave you a small side glance, the corner of her mouth twitching up. the conversation drifted then, the four of you talking briefly about fonts, color palettes, the layout of your presentation slides, and the fact that taerae still hadn’t uploaded his part of the visual storyboard.

"i’m doing it tonight," taerae promised. "i wanted to double-check something before i commit."

"don’t flake," ohseong warned, nudging him lightly. "you’re the pretty face of the group. we need your slides to be just as charming."

taerae groaned. "no pressure, right?"

a few more laughs were shared, warm and unforced, and then you and areum began stepping away. the hallway buzzed with students, all loud and moving too fast. but just as you neared the door, taerae called out.

"wait."

you turned slightly. areum paused beside you, scanning the area like a second pair of eyes.

taerae caught up, breath a little uneven from navigating the crowd. he glanced toward areum, then to you.

"i meant what i said," he told you. "about earlier. the way you handled that problem? it was impressive. not just the answer, but... the way you didn’t try to make a big deal about it. that kind of quiet confidence? it stands out."

you felt warmth rush to your cheeks, unsure how to respond to that level of sincerity. "i wasn’t trying to stand out."

"that’s why it worked," he said. "it felt real."

there was a pause, not awkward, but suspended in a way that made it feel like something was settling between you. something not quite spoken, but there all the same. his eyes searched yours for a second longer before he smiled, soft and genuine.

"you’ve got this presence," he said. "like... people listen when you speak. even when it’s just a whisper."

it left you feeling exposed, yet oddly comforted. like he saw you, really saw you, and didn’t look away.

"thanks," you said finally. "for saying that."

taerae gave a small nod, more to himself than to you. "see you later."

"yeah," you said, and then turned back to areum, who was already waiting.

as you walked away together, she leaned in, voice low. "okay, that? not a mixed signal."

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. and somewhere deep inside, under the pressure and the expectations, something light and unexpected started to bloom. it wasn’t just about the praise. it was the recognition. the possibility that you could be known—fully, honestly—and still be liked.

and that thought stayed with you long after the crowd faded and the hallway quieted, long into the evening, where a group call loomed with people who might just be seeing more of you than you meant to share.

maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

the classroom was a little warmer than usual, the overhead lights casting a yellowish hue across rows of desks as each group took their turn presenting. everyone was dressed slightly better than usual, a mix of school uniforms and semi-formal additions—blazers, ties, even the occasional collared shirt. nervous energy buzzed in the air, mixed with the hum of the projector and the occasional squeak of a chair. you could feel the low thrum of tension in your chest, the kind that curled around your ribs and held on.

your fingers tapped lightly against the side of your thigh, counting breaths as you waited. your group had rehearsed this presentation, sure. you knew your part. but standing up in front of a room full of your peers, under their eyes and assumptions, was never easy. it never had been.

"you ready?" areum whispered beside you, nudging your elbow lightly. she was all bright eyes and encouragement, a steady warmth beside your growing nerves.

"as ready as i can be," you murmured, managing a tight smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

the group before you wrapped up their presentation with scattered applause. the sound felt distant, like it echoed from somewhere underwater. then it was your turn. you rose from your seat with the others—taerae, ohseong, areum—and walked to the front of the room. each step felt heavier than the last.

the screen flicked to your title slide: digital identity: who are we online? a simple title, but it held weight. relevance. questions that didn’t always have easy answers.

areum opened with her usual warmth, introducing the topic with bright eyes and a spark in her voice. she brought energy into the room, making the subject feel fresh and approachable. her enthusiasm was infectious, drawing smiles and nods from even the more apathetic students. then it was your turn.

"according to a 2022 study by pew research center," you began, voice even but calm, "sixty-four percent of teenagers admit to feeling pressure to appear a certain way online, even if it doesn't reflect their true selves."

you clicked the remote and the slide shifted, revealing a graph. clean, sharp lines and percentages marked the screen.

"this presentation explores the psychological effects of digital curation, the pressure of online personas, and how these behaviors affect our sense of self in offline spaces."

your words were polished, academic, controlled. you cited articles, quoted psychologists, broke down data points. your hands were steady, your pacing practiced. you weren’t flashy, but your quiet authority was clear. each fact you offered was a small step into a truth most people didn’t want to confront.

taerae followed you. the tone in the room shifted the moment he spoke. confident, charismatic, his smile subtle but practiced. he didn’t just speak—he performed, weaving his words with a kind of ease that held people captive.

"when we think about our digital selves," he said, stepping a little closer to the edge of the projector light, "we don’t always realize how often we edit our identities to match who we think others want us to be."

the room was still. even the kids who usually tuned out were watching.

"i mean, think about your last post. how many drafts did it take? how many filters? did you delete it after ten minutes because it didn’t get enough likes? yeah. exactly."

laughter trickled in. not cruel, but understanding. relatable.

you glanced at him, and for a brief moment, he looked at you—eyes flickering with something almost apologetic. a silent message you couldn’t quite read. but then he turned away, and the performance continued, effortless and magnetic.

ohseong brought it back to the facts, clicking through the slides smoothly. his voice was calm, anchoring. he connected taerae’s charm with your analysis, bridging ideas and clarifying terms. he didn’t draw attention to himself, but his role was essential—a quiet kind of glue holding everything together. areum wrapped it all up, beaming as she thanked the class for their attention, her voice tinged with genuine pride.

the room clapped, and your group shuffled back to your seats. you sat down, the nearest empty chair placing you beside taerae. areum sat on your other side, and you leaned slightly toward her, grounding yourself in her presence.

taerae said nothing at first. then, quietly, "you killed it up there."

you blinked at him. "thanks."

he hesitated. "i meant it. your part had actual weight. like... it made people think."

you offered a faint nod. "it was supposed to."

a pause. then he leaned slightly closer. "you always talk like that when you’re nervous?"

you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "talk like what?"

"like you have a thousand thoughts all trying to get out at once, but you pick the calmest ones to show."

"and you talk like someone who needs everyone to look at him or else he might vanish."

the words came out sharper than intended. taerae flinched slightly, not offended, but thrown off. areum, sensing the tension, gave your knee a gentle squeeze under the table, then busied herself with her notebook, the buffer between you both.

"you’re not wrong," taerae murmured after a moment, voice low. "i just... wish you didn’t see through me so easily."

the rest of the lesson blurred. the teacher spoke, more groups presented, but your focus was split. taerae didn’t speak again, but he didn’t move away either. he stayed next to you, like proximity could say what he wouldn’t. something about it felt like a question.

by the time class ended, the room began to empty. ohseong and areum had already slipped out, chatting quietly. you hadn’t even noticed. you were still sitting beside taerae, the soft echo of desks scraping and zippers zipping fading away.

"looks like we’re the last ones," he said softly.

you glanced up. "didn’t even realize."

silence settled. the kind that felt too heavy, too intentional.

the light from the window had dimmed slightly, afternoon sun slanting in golden across the floor. the room felt still, like time had slowed. dust floated through the air, illuminated like motes of memory.

"i could never leave you alone," taerae blurted.

you froze. turned your head. stared at him.

"then why are you doing just that?"

your voice cracked, laced with something brittle. betrayal. confusion. exhaustion. the words hung in the air like smoke, like ghosts.

taerae inhaled sharply. his shoulders tensed. "because i don’t know how to not mess things up."

"what does that even mean?"

"it means i care too much. and that scares me. and when i get scared, i retreat into what i know—my friends, the image, the safety net."

you stared at him, jaw tight. "you keep saying you care. but caring means showing up. not just when it’s convenient."

he looked down at his hands. fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve. "i know. i just... i grew up learning that appearance was everything. that if i didn’t keep people impressed, i’d lose everything. my dad, he’s always talking about legacy and expectations and... it doesn’t matter how i feel."

your heart softened slightly, but the hurt was still there. "and what about me? do i just get shoved into the background whenever your reputation's on the line?"

"no. never."

"then why does it feel like i’m some secret you don’t want to admit?"

taerae swallowed hard. "because i’m scared that if people see how much you mean to me, they’ll use that against me. or worse, against you."

"that’s not protecting me," you said quietly. "that’s hiding me."

the room was so quiet now you could hear the ticking of the clock.

taerae finally looked up, eyes glossy but steady. "i don’t want to hide you. not anymore. not ever."

you searched his face. this wasn’t the charming, composed taerae from the presentation. this was someone raw. scared. real.

"then stop acting like this is all some game," you whispered. "i’m not a move in your social strategy. i’m a person."

"i know. and i see you. i swear, i see you. more than anyone else."

the final bell rang, distant and hollow.

the moment didn’t break. it lingered, stretching thin between you both like a thread not quite ready to snap.

you stood slowly, gathering your things. taerae rose too, unsure, watching you with that same uncertainty that had been there since the beginning.

"we still have work to do," you said softly.

he nodded. "i’ll do better. if you let me."

you met his eyes one last time before heading for the door.

"we’ll see."

and then you left, heart thudding, unsure if that ache in your chest was hope or heartache—or both. outside, the hallway was quiet, and yet everything felt impossibly loud inside you.

the night was heavy with silence.

the kind of silence that didn’t just fill a room—it filled your chest, too. hours had passed since you’d left the classroom, the tension of your conversation with taerae lingering long after the final bell had rung. you sat at your desk at home, a notebook open in front of you, but the words on the page blurred together. you weren’t really reading. you were remembering.

every glance. every word. every moment he looked like he might say something more, but didn’t. you kept replaying that look in his eyes—soft, trembling, like he had something more to confess but hadn’t found the courage.

you wondered if he regretted saying it. if he even meant it. or if it was just another reflex from the same boy who charmed a whole classroom like it was second nature. your fingers curled slightly, pressing against the paper, smudging the ink you weren’t writing. you thought about how you’d built your own walls, quietly, without drama or spectacle. how easy it was to stay protected when you didn’t let anyone close. but now that someone had gotten through—what now?

meanwhile, across the city, taerae was lying on his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. headphones in, no music playing. just static silence. his room was dark except for the dim glow of his desk lamp, casting long shadows across the posters on his wall.

"i could never leave you alone." his voice, in his own head, sounded uncertain now.

then yours, echoing back sharper:

"then why are you doing just that?"

he exhaled shakily, fingers curling into the blanket beneath him. everything he’d built—the polished smile, the calculated charm, the easy laughter—felt like a crumbling tower now. a house of cards built on expectation and fear. he had spent so long being exactly what everyone wanted, afraid that if he wasn’t perfect, he’d become invisible.

he rolled onto his side, staring at the photo frame on his nightstand. a picture of him and his father at a school fundraiser. taerae was smiling wide, perfect teeth and all. his dad had a hand on his shoulder, that proud, stern look carved into his features.

his dad expected perfection. expected leadership. popularity. image. every friendship taerae had was curated, observed, evaluated. especially the ones with the popular clique—the sons and daughters of executives, judges, politicians. taerae knew they didn’t care about him, not really. they liked the way he moved, the way he dressed, the way he maintained the illusion of effortless cool.

but it was exhausting.

and he didn’t want to lie anymore. not to himself. not to you.

he sat up suddenly. the floor was cold beneath his feet, but he didn’t hesitate. quietly, carefully, he crept down the hallway of his home, every creak in the wooden floor loud in the midnight hush. he stopped outside his father’s room, hesitating only a moment before pushing the door open.

his dad wasn’t home. another dinner with school board members, probably. a meeting with the principal. or some parent of another high-achieving student. taerae didn’t care.

the room was dimly lit, smelling faintly of cologne and printer ink. framed certificates lined the walls. the desk in the corner was neat, every pen in place, every folder labeled. he walked over, fingers skimming across papers and folders until he found the tablet his dad used for school-related communication. he tapped it open, unlocked it easily—it was the same passcode he’d used for years.

he scrolled through emails, eyes scanning lines of text until he found it: a school-wide bulletin from the owners of the school.

subject: upcoming school events and calendar reminders.

he clicked it open.

there it was. next week.

a school-wide festival. a full day of competitions, performances, student-run booths, and—most importantly—an open stage. a platform. a spotlight, but one he could control.

taerae stared at the screen, the glow of it lighting up his face in the dark. ideas churned in his mind. quick, racing, half-formed but vivid.

he could do something then. something that wasn’t curated or careful. something that wasn’t for his dad or the popular clique or the school image. something for you. something that would say all the words he hadn’t managed to find in that empty classroom.

his heart thudded louder. faster. hope and fear mixing like storm clouds in his chest. maybe he could rewrite the ending. maybe he could change the narrative.

he closed the tablet gently, set it back exactly where he found it. he took one last look around the room—at the awards, the photo, the expectations—and then he walked out.

as he padded down the hallway back to his room, the faintest curve of a plan was already forming in his mind. he could see flashes of it—a crowd, a microphone, his voice steady this time, eyes searching only for yours.

he didn’t know how you’d react. he didn’t know if he’d be brave enough.

but for the first time in a long time, he wanted to try.

whatever it was—he’d do it that day.

and whatever happened next, would change everything.

the air smelled like sugar and fresh popcorn.

bright paper lanterns swayed lazily in the warm breeze as students hurried past in clumps, laughter bubbling from every corner of the school grounds. booths lined the courtyards, painted in bold, cheerful colors. some were run by clubs selling snacks or trinkets, others hosted games that rang with bells and excited shouts when someone won a prize. the school had transformed into something almost unrecognizable—not just in appearance, but in spirit too. there was a giddy chaos to everything, like the world had tilted slightly, inviting everyone to let go.

and yet, even in the swell of cheer and music, you felt the undercurrent of nerves.

you clutched your drink a little tighter, scanning the festival as if your eyes could catch something that would explain the tension in your chest. areum walked beside you, cotton candy in one hand, the other linking casually through your elbow.

"you think taerae's actually going to show up?" she asked, licking a bit of pink fluff from her finger.

"he said he would," you said softly. "but he didn’t say anything about... today. not really."

areum gave you a sideways glance. "he’s been weird all week. quiet but intense. like he's planning something. it’s like every time i saw him, he looked like he was having a staring contest with his thoughts."

you nodded, your mind drifting back to the few times you’d seen him in class—focused, distant, like he was walking through a fog only he could see.

the crowds shifted, students weaving between booths and performers. somewhere near the back field, music began to pulse through speakers as a group prepared for a dance competition. the smell of grilled meat wafted past from a food stall nearby, and someone bumped into you while chasing a flying balloon. but it wasn’t the competitions or food stalls that kept your gaze wandering. it was something else. something you couldn’t name.

and then, the loudspeaker crackled.

"attention students," a familiar voice began—miss shin, the event coordinator. "we have a surprise performance on the open stage. please gather around if you’d like to watch. it’ll begin in five minutes."

you exchanged a look with areum. your heart stuttered.

"do you think..." she trailed off.

"i don’t know," you whispered, already walking toward the stage.

the crowd gathered slowly, curious murmurs rolling through the air. the open stage was modest—a few steps high, strung with fairy lights and a mic stand in the center. students leaned against each other, whispering theories and gossip as more people arrived. when taerae stepped onto it, time seemed to freeze.

he wasn’t wearing his usual polished look. no blazer. no carefully styled hair. he looked... real. soft hoodie, jeans, hands trembling slightly as he adjusted the mic. but his eyes scanned the crowd until they found yours.

and he smiled.

a nervous, crooked, achingly honest smile.

"hi," he said into the mic, his voice cracking slightly. "um... i wasn’t on the original lineup. sorry. but i asked miss shin for five minutes, and she said okay. so... here goes."

students murmured again. the popular clique was near the front, confused, some even frowning. ohseong stood off to the side, arms crossed but watching closely.

taerae took a deep breath.

"i’ve spent a lot of time pretending to be someone i’m not. i think most of you know me a certain way. charming. put together. maybe even a little fake sometimes. and you’d be right."

a hush fell. the music from the rest of the festival faded in your ears.

"i kept pretending because it felt safe. because it made people like me. and maybe it made my dad proud. but... lately, i’ve realized it’s not making me happy."

his eyes found yours again. locked.

"especially not when it costs me the people who actually matter. the ones who see through all of it. who see me."

somewhere near the back, someone whispered, "what is he doing?"

taerae smiled again, but this one was bittersweet.

"i’m doing something for myself. for once. and maybe for someone else too. someone who... means more to me than i ever let on."

his hand shook as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded paper. he unfolded it, glanced at the lines once, then looked up.

"i wrote this last night. it’s not a poem. not a speech. just... something i needed to say."

his voice grew steadier as he read.

"to the person who looked past my smiles and still stayed. who challenged me when i was hiding, and stayed gentle when i wanted to shut down. i know i hurt you. i know i pulled away when it mattered most. but you made me want to be honest. and i think... i think i need to tell you the truth."

he folded the paper again, lowering it slowly.

"i like you," he said. clearly. openly. raw.

gasps from the crowd. laughter. murmurs. someone muttered, "no way."

but he kept looking at you. only you.

"i like you, even when you’re quiet. even when you’re guarded. even when you think no one notices. i notice. i always have."

your breath caught.

you weren’t sure when your hands started trembling.

"and i know this might ruin everything," he added. "maybe my friends won’t talk to me after this. maybe people will start whispering more. maybe you... won’t say anything at all. maybe this just ends here."

he stepped back from the mic.

"but i had to try. because you deserve someone who doesn’t hide. who doesn’t lie. who chooses you, even when it’s hard. even when it’s messy. even when i’m scared."

silence. electric.

and then he stepped off the stage, disappearing into the crowd before anyone could stop him. not fast, but not lingering either—like he’d given the moment its weight, and now had to walk away from it.

you stood frozen.

around you, the world moved on—games played, students cheered, music blared again. teachers chatted near the booths. someone won a plush toy and screamed.

but in your chest, everything shifted.

areum touched your arm gently. "you okay?"

you swallowed.

"i don’t know," you whispered. your eyes searched for taerae, already lost somewhere between the tents and the stream of students.

but something inside you had cracked open. maybe fear. maybe hope.

"but i think i have to find him."

and so, as the lanterns swayed above, and the festival roared around you, you stepped forward into the crowd—toward whatever came next.

the night sky stretched endlessly above you, painted with soft shades of twilight and the last hints of the festival's lights flickering below. the hum of the crowd was distant now, muffled by walls and wind as you stood at the base of the staircase leading to the rooftop, breath catching in your throat like a song unsung.

"he has to be up there," areum said beside you, breathless from the search. her cheeks were flushed, her hair tangled from running between buildings. "he always disappears to quiet places when things get too loud."

"he said he wanted to be alone," you murmured, almost to yourself.

"doesn’t mean he should be," she said, her voice soft. she gave your arm a squeeze, then stepped back. "i’ll wait down here. go on."

you nodded, your hand tightening around the railing. your heart was loud. louder than the laughter still echoing faintly below, louder than the pulse of music that had played beneath taerae's confession. louder than your doubt, louder than the wind threading through your thoughts.

each step up the stairs felt like crossing into something unknown, something uncharted. you remembered how he looked on stage—vulnerable, raw, exposed—and it felt like your own skin had peeled back with every word he spoke.

when you pushed the door open, the wind met you first. soft. cold. honest. the night had settled deep and wide, stars scattered carelessly across the sky. taerae stood near the edge, arms crossed over the railing, his hoodie hood half up as if to hide his flushed face from the sky itself. the wind tugged at the hem of his sweater, and his figure looked smaller somehow, silhouetted against the infinite dark.

he turned at the sound of your footsteps, his eyes catching yours in an instant.

"oh," he breathed. "you found me."

"yeah," you said, stepping fully onto the rooftop. "you didn’t make it easy."

the corner of his mouth lifted, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "wasn’t trying to. guess part of me hoped you wouldn’t."

"why?"

he shrugged, turning his gaze to the skyline, where the horizon blurred with clouds. "because if you didn’t... then maybe i could pretend i didn’t ruin everything. pretend i didn’t make a fool of myself."

"you didn’t," you said quietly. "you were brave."

he let out a soft laugh, the kind that stung. "brave. right. it felt more like falling."

you stood beside him now, your arms close enough to brush his. he didn’t move away.

"falling can be good," you said.

he looked at you, brows furrowed. "you’re serious?"

"you said something real," you replied. "and you said it in front of everyone. that takes courage."

"but did it matter?" his voice cracked. "if it just made you uncomfortable? if it made people talk? i saw their faces. half of them were confused. the other half looked at me like i’d betrayed them."

"and what about how you felt?"

the question hung between you like fog. heavy. honest.

taerae’s shoulders dropped. "i felt free. for the first time in... god, years."

"then it mattered."

he turned toward you fully then, his eyes glossy under the rooftop lights, his expression naked with truth.

"i didn’t expect you to come after me."

"i didn’t expect you to say anything." you gave him a small smile. "we’re full of surprises tonight."

he laughed again, softer this time, but warmer.

"do you remember," he said, "the first time i asked you 'truth or dare'?"

"you asked me two times," you said. "i said 'neither' both times."

he nodded. "and you never explained why."

"because choosing meant risk."

taerae leaned against the railing, facing you now. "and tonight? would you still say the same?"

you looked out over the city, the wind tugging gently at your hair, the lights blinking like distant stars below.

"ask me again."

his lips quirked, the mischief returning to his eyes, this time mingled with something rawer. realer.

"truth or dare?"

you turned to him, steady now. "both."

he blinked. stunned.

"you always said 'neither'."

"i’m not the same person i was yesterday."

his smile bloomed slow, like dawn. "okay. truth first."

"go on."

"did you mean it? when you said i was brave?"

"every word," you said. "you were honest. vulnerable. you didn’t have to be. but you were. and it changed things."

he nodded, his voice almost lost in the wind. "your turn. dare."

you tilted your head. "dare me."

"dare to believe me," he said. "when i say i like you for who you are. not who people think you should be. not who you try to be when the world gets loud. just... you."

you stared at him. that was no ordinary dare. it was a lifeline. a bridge.

"i’ll take that dare," you said. "if you’ll take one of mine."

"name it."

"be yourself. from now on. even when it’s hard. especially then."

taerae nodded, slowly. "i think... i want to. more than anything."

"me too," you whispered.

the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. it was full. peaceful. the kind that came with understanding, with shared weight lifted.

taerae glanced down at the courtyard below, the laughter still trickling in from somewhere near the front gates.

"i thought being popular meant being safe. respected. seen," he said.

"but it’s exhausting when it isn’t real."

"yeah. and now that it’s slipping through my fingers... i think i’m okay with it."

you reached out, gently brushing your fingers against his.

"sometimes letting go of what people expect lets you hold onto what actually matters."

taerae looked down at your intertwined hands. "like this?"

"like this."

he leaned closer. "i don’t know what happens next."

"me neither. but... we’ll figure it out."

he nodded. "yeah. we will."

you stood there together, under the stars, away from noise, away from judgment. two people who had unraveled every mask, every defense, until all that remained was something honest. flawed. beautiful.

taerae turned to you once more, a shy smile creeping back onto his face.

"truth or dare?" he asked again, voice softer than before.

"both," you said. always now.

and somewhere between your joined hands and the cold wind brushing past, the world didn’t feel so heavy anymore. it felt like beginning.

change, although often painful and risky, had brought you both here. and here—on a rooftop under starlight, with laughter fading and hearts cracked open—was more than enough.

[hanbinstar]

hihi can I be 🐰 anon anyways can I request asking zb1 for cuddles

Of course 🥰 tbh I am so happy to be getting requests I usually don’t do full group because its more time and I have school but im gonna try to do this as much as I can, rn i have had a lot of testing so I might be late sorry

Jiwoong - Jiwoong is so fine omg he would probably come up to you while you’re doing homework (let’s pretend we are in college) and would wrap his arms around you and lightly kiss your neck (in a cute sweet way) “baby please, you look stressed how about you take a break with me” he would then proceed to cuddle up with you on the couch and watch your favorite movies

Matthew - i feel like Matthew would probably not even need to ask, he’d just start back hugging you or if you are on the couch he would hold you in his arms and give so many forehead kisses

Zhanghao - he would definitely pout or whine until you ask him what’s wrong “these days you’ve been so busy and i know we live together but i need your attention desperately” you would give in and hug this man

Taerae - he’d probably not even ask he’d just take you to the couch and lay his head in your lap so you could cuddle him and play with his hair

Hanbin - he would probably be very careful at first when asking because he wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable despite you being his partner so when he did ask he felt so relieved when you said yes, ever since then he has been a complete cuddle bug

Gyuvin - he probably jokingly pulled you onto his lap and you didn’t say no so he took it as a sign that you were cool with it, he’s really tall so when y’all cuddle in bed he sometimes wraps his arms and legs around you “haha youre trapped”

Ricky - Ricky Is a confident man who probably wouldn’t even hesitate when asking you “YN come here let’s cuddle” he’s very gentle with you and he probably plays with your hair while your face is buried in his chest

Gunwook - hed be smiling so hard and keep checking if you were alive “Gunwook I already told you,Im asleep I’m not dead, a dead person would not be snoring as loud as I do”

Yujin - he would probably be so shy, omg imagine him coming home from futball (soccer) and he just asks you for cuddles as a reward for him winning, he would try to be confident and chill but his heart would beating so fast and when you fall asleep on him he would probably try so hard not to move (the thing you do when your cat is ontop if you asleep so you make sure to stay as still as possible) he would eventually fall asleep as well

[florvainilla]