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One Nice Bug Per Day
Claire Keane
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if i look back, i am lost
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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| masterlist | about me | tag list |
📧 recent works ;
📧 upcoming work ;
📧 posting sched: when i feel like it
𝄞 for the best effect, read in dark mode 𝄞
𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐮𝐯 — 2025 ©️
dusk till dawn (nicholas) — nav
synopsis — cuddling with nicholas.
the day winds down slow, like honey sliding down the inside of a jar, and you’re already drowsy by the time the sun dips below the skyline. the living room is quiet, touched with that soft amber glow that only comes in the early evening—lamp light mixing with the last bits of daylight clinging to the windows. it’s peaceful, the kind of calm that settles deep into your bones.
you’re curled up on the couch with nicholas, legs tangled together beneath a faded blanket that smells like home—like detergent, a little bit of his cologne, and something warm and familiar you can’t quite name. your head rests against his chest, tucked right under his chin, where you can hear his heartbeat thumping slow and steady. that sound alone could send you drifting.
his hand is under your shirt, resting lightly against the bare skin of your back. his fingertips move in slow, lazy circles—soft and rhythmic. up, down, a gentle scratch, then a soothing drag of his palm. it makes your eyes flutter shut for a moment, then open again. not because you want to stay awake, but because you want to hold on to this. the softness. the quiet. the way he touches you like you’re something precious.
nicholas' other hand is in your hair, fingers sliding through the strands with all the care in the world. he twirls a piece gently, then lets it fall, then combs through again, repeating the motion over and over like it brings him some kind of peace too. it feels like he’s anchoring you—like as long as he’s touching you, the world can’t pull you too far away.
“you tired?” he murmurs, voice low and close to your ear.
you hum something in response, not quite a word, just a small sound that says yes, but don’t stop. and he doesn’t. he chuckles quietly, presses a kiss into your hairline, and keeps tracing those slow patterns on your back like he’s drawing lullabies into your skin.
your breathing slows to match his, syncing with the rise and fall of his chest. you let your hand rest on his ribcage, fingers curled against the fabric of his shirt, feeling the way he breathes, the way his heart beats. it’s steady. grounding. and suddenly, everything else—the noise of the day, the thoughts in your head, the weight behind your eyes—just begins to slip away.
the only thing that exists is the warm press of nicholas' body against yours, the way his thumb draws a soft line up your spine, the brush of his lips against the top of your head every so often, like he can’t help but kiss you, even in the quiet.
“go ahead,” he says softly. “i’ve got you.”
and you do. you let go. you let your body melt into him, your muscles relaxing one by one until you’re nothing but softness in his arms. your breath evens out. your lashes flutter against his shirt. you feel him shift just slightly to pull the blanket up higher, wrapping you tighter into him.
his fingers are still moving through your hair as your mind drifts into the haze of sleep. even when your thoughts stop forming, your body still feels the comfort of his touch, like a memory it knows how to hold onto even in dreams.
and just before everything fades to black, you hear him whisper something you don’t quite catch. maybe your name. maybe i love you. maybe both.
but it settles into your chest like a weightless stone, grounding and soft, and you fall asleep like that—wrapped in nicholas' arms, safe in his warmth, your back scratched gently, your hair played with lovingly, the world outside fading to nothing.
guitar tabs (gaon) — nav
synopsis — jiseok teaches you how to play guitar.
you sit cross-legged on the floor of jiseok’s room, snoopy awkwardly balanced on your lap. he grins at you from where he’s sitting, tuning 가오나시, his other guitar, with casual ease.
“okay, first things first,” jiseok starts, scooting closer until your knees almost touch. “how do you feel? intimidated? excited? terrified?”
“um, all of the above?” you laugh nervously, adjusting the strap that’s slipping off your shoulder.
“good,” he says, giving you a wink. “means you respect the instrument.”
you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. he reaches over and gently adjusts your hands.
“left hand here,” he murmurs, curling your fingers around the fretboard. “and right hand… just chill, yeah? no death grip.”
“this feels so weird,” you mutter, flexing your fingers awkwardly.
“it always does at first,” he assures you. “trust me. i was a disaster my first month.”
“somehow i don’t believe that,” you say, raising an eyebrow.
“i have witnesses,” jiseok laughs. “okay, here. let’s start with a simple chord. g major. classic.”
jiseok positions your fingers carefully, his hands warm and steady. his touch is patient, not rushed. he leans back to admire your awkward pose.
“okay, now… strum.”
you make a noise that sounds more like a dying bird than a chord. jiseok immediately claps dramatically.
“beautiful. a true masterpiece,” he says with a mock-serious expression.
“shut up,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands.
“no, seriously, it’s better than my first time,” jiseok insists, gently pulling your hands away so you’ll try again. “c’mon. again. and relax. snoopy can smell fear.”
you give him a flat look, but he just grins wider, his high-pitched giggle causing his shoulders to shake.
“you’re so annoying,” you say.
“and you love me,” he sing-songs, nudging your shoulder.
“sure,” you mutter, but you’re laughing now.
he picks up the guitar in his lap and strums the same g chord, his fingers flying over the strings effortlessly.
“hear that?” he says. “yours will sound like this soon. just gotta build those calluses.”
“calluses?” you repeat, horrified.
“oh yeah. your fingers are gonna hate you for a bit. but it’s worth it.” he flashes you a thumbs-up. “battle scars.”
you shake your head in disbelief, but you reposition your fingers like he showed you. you strum again—this time, a little clearer. a little less like a dying bird.
“there we go!” jiseok cheers. “that’s it! see? you’re basically a rockstar already.”
“yeah, okay,” you laugh.
“seriously. you’re a natural.” jiseok leans forward, his eyes bright. “next time, you’re playing at our concert.”
“never happening.”
“we’ll see about that,” he teases, bumping your knee with his.
you try the chord again, and he nods proudly.
“look at you,” he says. “you’re killing it.”
you glance at him, his face so full of genuine excitement, and you can’t help but smile.
“only because you’re a good teacher,” you say softly.
he pretends to flip his hair dramatically. “i mean… i am pretty amazing.”
"okaaaay, taking the compliment back."
jiseok laughs.
“okay, rockstar,” he says, standing up and offering you his hand. “break’s over. next chord!”
“already? i just got this one!” you whine, taking his hand anyway.
he pulls you to your feet with a mischievous grin.
“no mercy,” he says. “this is guitar boot camp.”
“i’m suing.”
“you can’t. you signed up for this the moment you started dating a guitarist.”
"dude."
mitochondria: the powerhouse of the cell (intak) - nav
synopsis — who need's a's in biology when you have a boyfriend like intak?
you’re supposed to be studying.
supposed to be.
instead, intak is lying across your bed, flipping your notebook upside down, pretending to be very, very serious.
“you spelled mitochondria wrong,” he says, squinting exaggeratedly.
you groan, flopping onto the bed next to him. “i didn’t.”
“you did,” he insists. “but don’t worry. i still believe in you.”
you turn your head to glare at him, but he’s already grinning, boyish and unbothered. it’s unfair how easily he makes you forget about everything—deadlines, grades, the way the world feels too heavy sometimes.
“you’re a distraction,” you mutter, poking his cheek.
“the best kind,” he says proudly, catching your hand before you can pull away.
you stare at him—messy hair, soft smile, heart in his eyes—and suddenly studying feels like the least important thing in the universe.
“what?” intak asks, voice dipping lower.
“nothing,” you say, cheeks heating.
he doesn’t buy it. he shifts closer, still holding your hand. “tell me.”
you swallow, nerves crawling up your spine. “just… i like this. us. you.”
intak’s whole face softens.
he tugs you even closer until your forehead bumps his. “me too,” he whispers. “i’m crazy about you.”
you laugh, breathless. “even if i spell mitochondria wrong?”
he pretends to think very hard. “i guess i can forgive you.”
“how generous,” you tease.
“hey,” intak says, grinning wider, “you’re dating a future spelling bee champ.”
“pretty sure that’s false advertising,” you giggle.
he kisses you before you can say anything else—soft, lingering, sweet enough to make your toes curl.
“false advertising or not,” he murmurs against your lips, “you spelled mitochondria wrong, i didn't."
"get out my house."
i'd give you the stars (woonhak) — nav
synopsis — you and woonhak grew up side by side, but somewhere along the way, you grew into each other too.
ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ childhood friends to lovers
you’ve known woonhak for as long as you can remember.
he was the boy who moved in two doors down the summer you turned eight, all scraped knees and sunburned cheeks, lugging a cardboard box that was almost bigger than him. you watched him from your front porch, popsicle melting down your hand, curiosity tugging at you until you couldn’t help but wave.
he waved back.
and that was it—a single, clumsy hello that stretched into years of sleepovers, secret codes, and promises whispered into the night air.
you grew up tangled in each other’s worlds, a thousand little moments blurring into something you couldn’t name back then. he was the one who held your hand the first time you snuck into the woods behind your neighborhood. the one who helped you build a treehouse out of old planks. the one who carried your books when your backpack broke and laughed when you threatened to punch him for teasing you.
woonhak has always been there.
always.
but lately… it feels different.
you notice it one lazy afternoon in late spring. the two of you are sprawled out in the grass behind his house, a soft breeze lifting strands of your hair, the sky stretching wide and endless above you.
he’s talking—about school, about the summer plans he keeps making and remaking—and you’re listening, you swear you are, but it’s hard to focus when the sunlight keeps catching the angles of his face just right. when his smile, familiar as your own heartbeat, suddenly feels like something dangerous.
you look away quickly, pretending to pluck at the grass beside you.
you don’t know when it changed.
you only know it has.
you start noticing everything.
the way his voice drops when he says your name. the way he remembers exactly how you like your eggs without asking. the way he looks at you sometimes—like he’s memorizing you without meaning to.
it’s terrifying.
and it’s thrilling.
and it’s hopeless.
because he’s your best friend.
because you’re scared to lose him.
because you’re not sure he could ever feel the same way.
you try to bury it—the flutter in your chest, the stupid, impossible hope. you try to be the same version of yourself you’ve always been around him.
but it gets harder every day.
especially today.
today, woonhak drags you to a street festival downtown, claiming you’ve both been “too boring lately” and need “serious fun therapy.” he says it with that bright, reckless grin of his, the one that’s always been your undoing.
you don’t even put up a fight.
the streets are alive with music and laughter, colorful banners fluttering from every lamppost. food stalls line the sidewalks, filling the air with the warm, dizzying smell of roasted corn, sweet pastries, and fried everything.
woonhak buys you a lemonade without asking and immediately steals a sip, wrinkling his nose when it’s too sour. you laugh and shove him playfully, and he catches your wrist without thinking, his fingers warm against your skin.
you freeze.
so does he.
for a heartbeat, the world tilts—the music fades, the crowds blur—and it’s just the two of you, tethered together by a touch so small it shouldn’t mean anything.
but it does.
he lets go first, clearing his throat and mumbling something about finding the games.
you follow him, heart pounding.
you tell yourself you’re imagining it.
you have to be imagining it.
the sun sinks lower, painting the sky in streaks of pink and orange. you end up at a booth lined with prizes—giant stuffed animals, glittering keychains, tiny glass bottles filled with sand.
woonhak stops, studying the shelves.
“you want something?” he asks, voice easy.
you shake your head, but he’s already fishing coins out of his pocket.
“too bad,” he says, flashing a grin. “you deserve a prize for putting up with me today.”
you watch, half amused, half horrified, as he attempts the ring toss. he’s terrible—truly, hilariously terrible—but he’s determined, tongue poking out slightly in concentration.
on the fifth try, somehow, he wins.
he picks the prize without hesitation: a small, delicate charm shaped like a star.
he hands it to you with a crooked smile, a little sheepish. “thought it looked like you.”
you stare at it, too stunned to speak for a second.
it’s nothing. it’s everything.
you close your fingers around the charm carefully, holding it like it might break.
“thank you,” you whisper, voice barely audible over the noise.
woonhak shrugs, but there’s a flush creeping up his neck.
“you’re welcome,” he says, and then, after a pause, quieter, “you deserve all the stars, you know.”
you don’t know how your heart survives that.
later, when the festival winds down and the sky is a deep velvet blue, he suggests one last stop: the rooftop of the parking garage overlooking the city.
you climb the stairs together, your shoulders brushing now and then. neither of you moves away.
the rooftop is almost empty. the city stretches out below you, glittering and alive, the river snaking through it like silver.
woonhak sits down, legs dangling over the edge. he pats the spot next to him without looking at you.
you sit.
you sit so close you can feel the warmth radiating off him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
for a while, neither of you says anything.
it’s not uncomfortable. it’s never uncomfortable with him.
but tonight, the silence feels heavier. charged.
you toy with the charm still tucked into your palm, its edges pressing into your skin.
“hey,” he says suddenly, voice rougher than usual.
you turn to look at him—and find him already looking at you.
his eyes are serious, shining under the city lights.
“can i tell you something?” he asks.
you nod, afraid to speak.
he laughs under his breath, a little shaky. “i’m scared.”
you blink. “of what?”
he bites his lip, glancing out at the city, then back at you.
“of ruining this,” he says. “ruining us.”
your heart stutters.
he takes a breath, steadying himself.
“but if i don’t say it,” he continues, “i think i’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
you barely breathe.
“i like you,” he says simply. “more than a friend. way more.”
the world slows.
the stars tilt.
and in the quiet between heartbeats, you realize he’s been feeling it too.
all along.
you reach for his hand without thinking, fingers curling into his.
he looks down at your joined hands like he’s afraid he’s dreaming.
you squeeze gently.
“me too,” you whisper.
the relief on his face is almost painful to look at.
he laughs, soft and disbelieving, and then he’s pulling you closer, wrapping you in a hug so tight you can feel the way he’s trembling.
you bury your face in his shoulder, breathing him in—the smell of soap and sugar and something purely, unmistakably him.
you stay like that for a long time, swaying slightly, the city a blur around you.
when you finally pull back, he cups your face in his hands, searching your eyes.
“can i-?”
you don’t let him finish.
you lean in and kiss him.
it’s clumsy, your noses bumping, teeth clicking slightly—but it’s perfect. it’s years of friendship, of trust, of love spilling over.
it’s everything you didn’t know you were waiting for.
he kisses you back, laughing a little against your lips, and you realize you’re crying.
he wipes the tears away with his thumbs, smiling so wide it hurts.
“wow” he says, that goofy smile on his lips.
you laugh, shaky and breathless.
"you're making it weird."
he kisses you again, slow and sure, like a promise.
the next morning, woonhak shows up at your door with a single daisy clutched in his hand, looking sheepish and ridiculously proud of himself.
“for you,” he says, cheeks pink.
you take the flower, laughing as you pull him inside.
you spend the whole day doing nothing—eating cereal straight from the box, watching terrible movies, building a blanket fort like you’re still kids.
except now, he kisses you whenever he wants.
except now, you belong to each other in a way you always dreamed of but never dared to hope for.
as the sun sets, you curl up beside him, tracing lazy patterns on his arm.
“you know,” he says, voice muffled against your hair, “you’re still my best friend.”
you smile, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.
“good,” you say. “because you’re still my best friend.”
he grins, pulling you even closer.
“i wouldn’t want it any other way.”
and you know, with absolute certainty, that neither would you.
beneath the willow tree (theo) — nav
synopsis — beneath an old willow tree, you and theo fall in love.
you meet taeyang beneath the old willow tree that crowns the hill behind your family’s farmhouse. it's a place stitched into the fabric of your childhood—a place for scraped knees and whispered secrets—but today, it feels different. the air hums with the heavy breath of late summer, and the sunset spills golden light across taeyang's face as he leans against the rough bark.
you wonder if he knows how beautiful he looks like that, with his arms crossed, a lazy smile tugging at his lips, the way his dark hair catches the last glints of daylight.
“you're late,” he says, teasing, but there’s no real accusation in his voice. just warmth. just that boy you’ve known for what feels like forever.
you jog up the hill, a little breathless. “you're always early,” you shoot back, letting yourself fall onto the grass beside him.
he doesn’t say anything for a moment. you feel him watching you, and the weight of his gaze stirs something inside you that you don’t know how to name.
somewhere just us (gunil) — nav
synopsis — when you follow gunil out of a coffee shop and into a hidden corner of the city, you realize that sometimes love feels less like falling and more like finding where you’re meant to be.
you never thought you’d be the kind of person who falls in love in a coffee shop, but here you are. the air smells like roasted beans and warm pastries, and the soft clink of ceramic mugs is the only thing that fills the space between you and him. gunil. he’s sitting across from you, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the side of his cup, a melody you swear you can feel in your chest.
you don’t even remember how it started. maybe it was the way he smiled the first time you accidentally bumped into him at the counter, both of you reaching for the same croissant. or maybe it was the way he said your name, soft like a secret only he was allowed to know. either way, you fell, and you fell hard.
today, he’s wearing that navy blue sweater you love, the one that makes his brown eyes look even warmer. he catches you staring and raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“what?” he asks, voice low, teasing.
the wreckage of missing you (riwoo) - nav
synopsis — you love him so much, it hurts.
ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ tw: angst with a happy ending
you don’t mean to cry when you see him.
he’s standing in your doorway, smiling like nothing is wrong, like he doesn’t know you’ve been thinking about this conversation for days now, holding it in until it feels like it’s clawing out of your chest.
“sweetheart,” he says, stepping inside. “i missed you so much.”
you let him hug you, let him bury his face in your neck, breathing you in like he’s been starved for you.
and maybe that’s what breaks you—the way he acts like everything's okay when you've been drowning alone.
“sanghyeok,” you whisper, voice shaking. “we need to talk.”
he freezes immediately, pulling back just enough to see your face. the smile drops from his lips in an instant.
“what’s wrong?” he says, already sounding scared.
you step back, putting space between you because you know if he touches you again, you’ll lose your nerve. you swallow hard, hands trembling.
“i think…” you begin, forcing the words out through the tightness in your throat, “i think we should break up.”
silence.
like the whole world just stopped moving.
he blinks at you, stunned. “what?”
you bite your lip, trying to stay strong. “you’re so busy, sanghyeok. and that’s okay, it really is. you’re chasing your dream. but i miss you so much it hurts. and i hate feeling like i’m just… waiting around for you.”
his mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“i don’t want to be clingy,” you say, voice cracking. “i don’t want to make you feel guilty for working hard. i love you too much for that. so it’s better if i just–"
“no,” he says suddenly, fiercely, cutting you off. “no. no, no, no.”
you flinch at the desperation in his voice.
he crosses the space between you in two steps, grabbing your hands like he’s terrified you’re going to disappear.
“please,” he whispers, voice breaking. “y/n, please don’t leave me.”
you can see the tears pooling in his eyes, his whole body trembling with the force of it.
“sanghyeok–"
“i’m sorry,” he says, choking on the words. “i’m sorry i made you feel like you’re second place. you’re not. you’re never second. you’re everything to me.”
tears stream down his cheeks, and your heart shatters.
“i missed you too,” he says, voice raw and shaking. “i missed you so much it made me sick. every night, every morning, every time i got five minutes to breathe, i thought about you. i just… i thought i had to pretend it didn’t hurt, because i didn’t want to seem like i couldn’t handle it.”
he lets out a broken laugh, wiping at his face uselessly. “turns out i can’t handle it at all.”
you stare at him, at the boy you love more than anything, standing in your living room crying for you, begging you to stay.
“i never wanted to hurt you,” he whispers. “i'm so sorry, y/n. i– i fucked up, but please. please don't leave me.”
he drops to his knees in front of you, forehead pressed against your stomach, arms wrapping around your waist like he’s anchoring himself to you.
“i’ll do anything. anything you need. just… just stay," he begs again, voice muffled.
you sink to your knees too, cupping his face in your hands, wiping at the tears streaming down his face.
“sanghyeok,” you say, voice cracking, “i love you.”
he sobs, eyes squeezing shut.
“i love you, too,” he gasps. “i love you so much that i don't know who i am without you.”
you kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his trembling lips, feeling your own tears fall freely now.
“i don’t want to break up,” you whisper against his skin. “i just… i didn’t know how to keep hurting like this.”
“let me fix it. please. i’ll be better. i’ll show you you’re my priority. i swear. just give me another chance," he says, desperate
you pull back just enough to look into his eyes—red, puffy, but shining with so much love it makes you ache.
“okay,” you whisper.
he lets out a broken sob of relief, pulling you into his chest so tightly you can barely breathe, but you don’t mind. you cling to him just as hard, burying your face in his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat pounding wild under your palm.
“thank you,” he keeps whispering. “thank you, thank you.”
you stay like that for a long time, tangled up in each other on the floor, until the tears dry and the silence turns soft instead of heavy.
later, when you’re curled up together on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, he pulls you even closer.
“i’m sorry,” he says again, quieter this time. “for every night you felt alone.”
you shake your head. “i’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”
he kisses the side of your head. “we’re learning. together."
you close your eyes, breathing him in, feeling the steady beat of his heart, the way his hand never stops moving across your back like he’s reassuring himself you’re still there.
“we’ll make this work,” he promises. “no matter what. you’re my everything.”
off stage (maki) — nav
synopsis — during your college's music festival, you take a behind the scenes job helping your best friends’ band—only to clash (and eventually fall for) the sharp-tongued lead singer who’s nothing like you expected.
ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ enemies to lovers, female reader, 8k word count
the lounge is half-empty when you get there, which is a miracle considering how popular it usually is this close to festival week. the old leather couches sag in the middle, the vending machines buzz in the corner, and the sun slants in through the big windows, making everything look a little softer, a little more tired.
nicholas spots you first. he’s perched on the arm of one of the couches, his red hair catching the sunlight like a flare. his fox-like eyes narrow a little when he sees you, but there’s nothing sharp behind it—just the usual mix of mischief and excitement. when he grins, all teeth and warmth, you know immediately he’s up to something.
euijoo’s sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him, brown hair falling into his wide, open eyes as he scrolls through his phone. he’s the tallest of all of you, but right now he looks like a kid waiting for his turn at an arcade game.
found in the in-between (k) — nav
synopsis — one fall, one glance, and suddenly, the world reshapes itself around him.
you meet him on a thursday.
it’s not special—just another exhausting day of class and part-time work, the city blurring past you as you trudge home. you’re juggling your bag, your umbrella, and a bag of groceries when the heel of your boot catches on the curb and everything flies out of your hands.
you swear under your breath, dropping to your knees, trying to gather your apples before they roll into the gutter. that’s when another hand appears, steady and sure, scooping up your runaway fruit.
“careful,” a voice says, laughing softly.
you look up and see him.
he’s tall, with hair pushed back in a beanie and a sweatshirt a little too big for his frame. there’s something effortless about him, like he belongs to the world in a way you never have. but right now he’s crouched on the sidewalk, grinning at you like you’re the only interesting thing in the whole city.
you mumble a thank you, trying not to sound breathless. you reach for the apples he’s holding out to you, but he doesn’t let go right away.
&team m.list
EJ 의주
٠࣪⭑ nothing yet!
FUMA フウマ
٠࣪⭑ nothing yet!
K ケイ
٠࣪⭑ found in the in-between
NICHOLAS ニコラス
٠࣪⭑ dusk till dawn
YUMA ユウマ
٠࣪⭑ nothing yet!
JO ジョウ
٠࣪⭑ nothing yet!
HARUA ハルア
٠࣪⭑ nothing yet!
TAKI タキ
٠࣪⭑ nothing yet!
MAKI マキ
٠࣪⭑ offstage
OT9
٠࣪⭑ nothing yet!
boynextdoor m.list
JAEHYUN 재현
٠࣪⭑ nothing yet!
SUNGHO 성호
٠࣪⭑ nothing yet!
RIWOO 리우
٠࣪⭑ the wreckage of missing you
TAESAN 태산
٠࣪⭑ nothing yet!
LEEHAN 이한
٠࣪⭑ nothing yet!
WOONHAK 운학
٠࣪⭑ i'd give you the stars
OT6
٠࣪⭑ nothing yet!
beneath the willow tree (theo) — nav
synopsis — beneath an old willow tree, you and theo fall in love.
you meet taeyang beneath the old willow tree that crowns the hill behind your family’s farmhouse. it's a place stitched into the fabric of your childhood—a place for scraped knees and whispered secrets—but today, it feels different. the air hums with the heavy breath of late summer, and the sunset spills golden light across taeyang's face as he leans against the rough bark.
you wonder if he knows how beautiful he looks like that, with his arms crossed, a lazy smile tugging at his lips, the way his dark hair catches the last glints of daylight.
“you're late,” he says, teasing, but there’s no real accusation in his voice. just warmth. just that boy you’ve known for what feels like forever.
you jog up the hill, a little breathless. “you're always early,” you shoot back, letting yourself fall onto the grass beside him.
he doesn’t say anything for a moment. you feel him watching you, and the weight of his gaze stirs something inside you that you don’t know how to name.
nicknames they'd call you (p1harmony) — nav
KEEHO
٠࣪⭑ babe, baby, sexy, mamas, schnookums, pookie
babe and baby are def his go-tos — babe more so than baby. he calls you sexy and mamas when he's feeling goofy. if you ever are ignoring him or don't hear him, he calls you in that order: "babe! baby? sexy? mamas? y/n? schnookums? pookie? apple of my eye?". . . etc.
THEO
٠࣪⭑ baby, sweetheart
honestly, i don't see taeyang as really being one for pet names? if you see him as that guy that's totes fine! but to me, he just doesn't give off that vibe. he'd probably just find some sort of nickname with your name, and if your name's too short, then baby and sweetheart would be likely. taeyang strikes me as someone who would be embarrassed to call you a pet name in public or in front of others, but if he were to use one, it would be baby: sweetheart is for behind closed doors where absolutely no one can hear. and he will deny ever calling you that. ever.
JIUNG
٠࣪⭑ honey, my love, darling
jiung is the sweetheart. he's just the cutest and the loveliest man to ever walk this earth. his pet names for you are very soft and the way he says them are just so pure and sweet and sweet and sweet and he's so sweet and ahhhhh. no but imagine it! y'all know that soft voice he has when talking to his chocochips AGH! HIM SAYING THESE WITH THAT VOICE?! dead.
INTAK
٠࣪⭑ baby, bubs, prince/princess
intak is also such a cutie, and i feel he's very romantic. bubs is probably his go-to, but baby is a close second. sometimes bubs is your name and baby is your nickname. similar to taeyang, i feel he would only call you prince/princess when it's just you two, almost like it's a secret nickname. ( it's his favorite but he's embarrassed. )
SOUL
٠࣪⭑ love, bubs
this cutie pie right here would come up with so many different names to call you. obviously i don't have that smart, cutie, unique brain of his, so i can't supply you with any of them, but just know that you're in for it with him. ( like how he calls keeho snucky. ) but on the 'normal' side of things, love and bubs were the first two that came to mind when i thought about nicknames.
JONGSEOB
٠࣪⭑ darling, angel, babe
he's young, but he's so sweet with pet names. jongseob also strikes me as someone who would be embarrassed to call you pet names in front of people, so he'd probably call you babe in front of the guys and anyone else. but he absolutely LOVES calling you darling and angel. ( he was plotting that shit before y'all even got together. ) angel is def his go-to, and he says it so delicately. <\3
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two strangers (o.de) — nav
synopsis. you bump into a stranger on the street while trying to save a kitten.
“are you alright?” you hear a voice ask. the voice sounded soft, and when you turned to meet the stranger’s face, your assumption was true — the boy did look sweet.
“there's a kitten,” you say, sounding rather panicked. “it's on the road.” the boy looks to where you’re pointing. squinting slightly, he notices a tiny, white kitten on the small, yet busy street.
“i've been trying to call him over for minutes. he was almost hit by a car!” as you start to become more anxious, you bend down, your knees to your chest, and reach out your hand — rubbing your pointer and middle finger, trying desperately to call the kitten over.
silence between songs (junhan) — nav
synopsis. hyeongjun portrays his feelings through music.
the room is filled with gentle chords—the occasional piercing screech of fingers readjusting their position feeling your ears. melodies are strummed effortlessly, like they’ve been played countless of times before; flowing smoothly from one note to the next, leaving an almost somber feeling. it's typical for the heaviness of the world to be shown through his guitar—for the worries that have trotted into his mind to find their release through his melancholic tunes.
it's around five in the afternoon, and the sky casts a gray tint to the world, seemingly matching hyeongjun's mood. his bedroom light is off, and his curtains are opened for the light to pass through.
the melody, which had started as a slow-flowing pace, has increasingly sped up, the chords causing your body to become tense.
“wanna talk about it?” you watch from your spot on his bed, the comforter made perfectly underneath your body as your head is laid on his freshly washed pillowcase. he sits at his desk, the lower bout of the guitar facing towards you.
“hm?” the boy turns his head softly, his melody becoming rather syncopated. his eyes meet yours, and you notice his pursed lips; a sign of stress, but also a sign of focus.
“your strums sound sad,” you say, pointing to his guitar. “you only play sad tunes when you’re feeling upset.”
"oh.”
hyeongjun looks down at his guitar, running his fingers softly down the frets. he inhales shakily. “i don’t know how to talk about it.”
sitting up from your position in his bed, you tilt your head to look at him, reaching out to caress his shoulder. you can feel the tension in his body.
“it's okay to not know. talk to me through music.”
hyeongjun's head turns slowly. he gulps, nodding. so, you pull your hand back, watching as hyeongjun gathers his thoughts. Inhaling deeply, he positions his fingers in their starting positions, strumming the first chord.
the same tune from before starts, but this time the build-up is different, and he seems more into it—like he’s sure of the emotions he’s feeling. when he reaches the end, he gulps again, looking up at you with quivering lips. your eyes meet, and you stand to hug him. he places his guitar against his desk, and embraces you tightly, breathing heavily into your chest.
“i'm sorry,” he cries, his tears soaking through your shirt. his grip around you tightens.
“don't be, hyeongjun. please don’t be sorry.” you rub his back as the room is filled with broken sobs.
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everything happens for a reason (jungsu) — nav
synopsis — things have seemingly not been going your way, and it's all beginning to take a toll on you. a stranger lends you some comfort and support.
lost your job because you stood up for yourself. your cat ran away. your nail broke. everything's going perfectly fine for you. haha. how could things end up being this terrible?
you sigh, leaning your head back against the wall of your bathtub. a nice bath would get your mind off of things, right? oh, how wrong were you.
the silence was actually making you think more of it. besides, bath time was usually when your cat would climb up and accompany you.
there is no cat.
"fuck this," you groan, draining the bath water and stepping out of the tub—goosebumps forming onto your skin upon feeling the brisk air touch your skin. throwing your sweatshirt over your greasy hair, as well as some black puma joggers. facing the mirror above the sink, you take in your appearance; stressed.
eye bags, chapped lips, acne. every worst possible feature. things are surely looking up for you.
gripping the sides of the counter, your head hangs low as you desperately fight the urge to cry. the silence overtakes you again once the water finishes draining.
gulping, you grab your phone to check the time: 12:34am. you shove your phone in your pocket and make your way towards the front door.