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“More love is found in grief than in love itself.”

—Lang Leav, September Love

#when we love we’re too afraid to say it but when we grieve we wish we could’ve said it all

[starlost-andfound]

“More love is found in grief than in love itself.”

—Lang Leav, September Love

[starlost-andfound]

hyunjin attending the cartier high jewelry gala dinner

[starlost-andfound]

Oh my gosh 😭😭😭😭 this was so cute and so funny ahhhh seeing happy Chris was the best 🥺 the ending was so funny too hahahaa Minhos reaction “Felix was stunned that Minho was stunned” and earlier when Hyunjin and changbin saw a very smol very startled jisung with the groceries 😭 I just pictured the scared hamster meme

𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞・b.c.

— incurable playboy turned doting boyfriend was a character development arc nobody saw coming for christopher bang, including (especially) his frat brothers.

words・2.8k pairing・frat president!chris x gn!reader genres・fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, college!au, fuckboy!chris, boys being boys, kissing, implied sex so mdni warnings・substance use, talk of past heartbreak

a/n・here is "nobody believes you're dating" w/chan, requested by none other than my @rachalixie for my 2k event !! anny, i hope u love this fic as much as i love u; thank you for allowing me to write something so self-indulgent <3

In the deafening throes of one of Phi Mu Alpha’s spring kickbacks, Minho finds Jeongin and Seungmin standing in motionless silence by the kitchen counter. Both boys are gaping at something with an intensity that dips egregiously into the realm of creepy.

He moves to pour himself a shot. “What the fuck are you people looking at?”

Seungmin prods a pointer finger in the relevant direction. It takes a few seconds of scanning the scene for Minho to find what he’s referring to. He digs a knuckle into his eye, instantly confused by what he’s seeing. Maybe the gaping is justified.

The windows and doors have all been thrown open to invite the balmy April weather into the foyer of the frathouse. There’s a large crowd of people huddled around a long, foldable table stationed before the stairs; Jaehyun clutches a ping-pong ball between his fingers, singular eye squinted shut as he takes aim. The number of remaining solo cups dwindles rapidly, as does the players’ sobriety.

Something—someone—is missing.

Not to say “beer pong virtuoso” was one of the reasons Chris was elected frat president, but you’d think the guy had a career path in basketball with how he’s given the entire Greek life community alcohol poisoning by courtesy of two or three plastic balls alone. Minho has never known him to miss a shot, let alone miss out on a game.

Today, however, the reigning champion is only spectating, seated above the ongoing match on one of the steps of the main staircase.

A beautiful stranger is sitting beside him, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you peer at the match through the bannister.

You say something inaudible. The laugh it earns from Chris is bright enough to pick up from a few streets down. He leans in to murmur something in return, and you slide your hand over his nape to pull his mouth onto yours, light blush crawling up and over your ears. The way Chris melts into you can only be described as familiar, his eyes slowly fluttering shut, finger hooking delicately beneath your chin, grin going lopsided as your lips part—

“That’s enough,” Minho hisses, tearing his eyes away with considerable effort. “Aren’t you ashamed? Just fucking ogling.”

Jeongin shakes his head, grinning. “It’s dinner and a show. We’d be idiots not to.”

By dinner, he must mean the gallon of chocolate milk he’s been drinking from for the last hour. He now holds out said gallon with the intent to cheers. Seungmin picks up the entire handle and does the same.

Minho sighs, clinks his glass against theirs, and they throw back their respective refreshments in unison.

“Anywho.” Jeongin swipes the back of his hand over his mouth before going on. “You guys know who that is?”

Minho resurfaces with a wince, relishing in the bitter aftermath, then motions for Seungmin to give the bottle back straightaway. He arrived to the function late and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be.

Seungmin obliges Minho only after another heady swig. “No clue. Probably just another fling, no?”

“Mmm,” Jeongin hums in assent. “It’s Chris we’re talking about, after all.”

"Exactly.” There’s an air of finality in Seungmin’s voice—but Minho wouldn’t be so sure.

Perhaps because he has never noticed that Chris had dimples until now; or because you fold so naturally into Chris' side after your kiss ends, head nuzzling against the crook of his neck and hand seeking out his to hold in your lap; or, most likely, because Chris' eyes seem to return to you when he looks at you, as if his gaze drifting anywhere else is but a momentary departure from where it really belongs. As if he comes home every time you come into his line of vision.

Whatever the reason, the idea coalesces in Minho’s mind, even as inebriation begins to fall over his cognitive faculties like a curtain, that the boys have got it wrong.

Jeongin utters his name, jolting him out of his trance. There’s another shot lifted halfway to Minho’s lips that hasn’t budged in minutes. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Minho looks at Jeongin first, Seungmin next, then back at Chris and his stunning companion. He’s not inclined to answer the question in full, but he can in truth. A coy smile crosses his face.

“Threesome?”

Jeongin laughs hard enough to collapse onto the kitchen island. Seungmin drags a hand down his face. “Come on, man.”

In the corner of his eye, you’ve gone back to kissing again, slow and sweet and secretive. Chris' gentle hold on your jaw shields you from view but fails to hide his lovesick smile. Dimly, Minho thinks that maybe his friend has met his match.

Then, he takes four shots in rapid succession—and stops thinking altogether.

Christopher Bang’s love life is like a horror movie and romcom spliced together: a fiasco of a film to which his housemates have front row seats.

The frat’s upperclassmen live in sets of four-bed, two-bath suites comprising a small common space with a kitchen and a sitting area, sandwiched by bedrooms on either side. It is in that common space that Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung often see or hear Chris stumbling home after a night out, entangled with a different attractive stranger every time—so often, in fact, that they’ve come to believe that he’s deathly allergic to anything bigger than a one-and-done hookup.

They can’t judge. In part because they’d be throwing stones from glass houses, but also because the man’s penchant for empty physicality is far from unfounded. His past self gave pieces of his heart to the wrong people, contracted first-degree burns from the guileless warmth he sought out. Now, his version of “intimacy” is less a connotation of closeness than it is a self-contradiction, for it should be impossible for so much distance to remain between two people in a single bed.

Chris hasn’t vocalized any of this. Nor have his housemates discussed it with each other. The knowledge simply exists in the air between the four of them like something akin to taboo, dipping in and out of acknowledgement depending on the circumstance.

This might be the circumstance of all time.

At around 11:40 A.M. on a Saturday, three doors in the suite open at once. Hyunjin and Changbin aren’t coincidence—the latter is coercing the former to go to the gym again—but they lift their eyes to the opposite side of the living room, and the slice of milk bread dangling from Hyunjin’s lips very nearly takes a fatal fall. Changbin manages to snatch it up with an extended hand.

Chris has just emerged from his room as well. Your silhouette follows close behind, your mouth stretching into a yawn as you massage the sleep from your eyes. You’re sporting a mesh green sweater identical to one Chris owns. They find Chris' accessories more interesting than his clothes, though: two hickeys peeking out from beneath his jaw and the base of his neck.

Chris sees Hyunjin and Changbin right away, and his expression goes utterly blank, not unlike their faces as they watch you close his door meticulously. You turn around and gasp.

The four of you stare at each other for what feels like multiple business days. At least, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Chris stare at each other; your eyes dart between the men on the other side of the room and the man next to you, silently pleading for him to say something. He does not for a long while.

Then, he lunges for one of the throw pillows on the couch and flings it at Hyunjin like a shot put. It ricochets off his chest and lands on the floor rather anticlimactically.

“Distraction!” Chris yells anyways, grabbing your hand and tearing towards the exit, wild grin on his face. “Go, go, go!”

Your raucous laughter lingers even after you’ve been hauled away, accompanied by an unintelligible, breathless shout of something along the lines of my toothbrush—and then the front door clicks shut, and there are two.

Changbin and Hyunjin lock eyes, struggling to process what just happened. Hyunjin is the first to move, wandering hesitantly into the bathroom that Chris and Jisung share. Nothing about the place looks out of the ordinary.

Aside from the two toothbrushes slotted in the holder on Chris' side of the counter, that is.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin says out loud.

Something moves in the bathroom window, catching his attention. Hyunjin looks over just in time to spot you and Chris dart out onto the lawn two floors below. Chris has his arm draped over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist. Your smile is discernible all the way from here, and Hyunjin sees a perfect mirror of it on his friend’s face when Chris glances at the frathouse over his shoulder. 

Has he always had dimples?

Moments later, Changbin joins him in peering out the window. A high-pitched cackle erupts from the older boy’s lips. “Look at that idiot.”

Standing off to the left is a tiny, baffled Han Jisung, his arms full of groceries, jaw sitting squarely the grass and whites of his eyes on full display as he watches you and Chris stroll away.

Hyunjin laughs with his whole fucking body. Changbin whips out his phone and takes a picture.

When you finally breach the topic, it’s because you don’t think you can physically study for another minute—but also because, after multiple long months of fruitless sparring, your curiosity finally wins.

Your boyfriend is seated in your desk chair, feet kicked up onto your mattress with his laptop propped up on his thighs. His features have rearranged themselves into an expression of intense focus. You can hear the music blaring through his headphones from all the way here.

You uncross your legs from below you, scootch across your bed, and lift your hands to cradle his cheeks. He starts as if jolted out of a trance, then starts to smile when he reads the words hi, Channie off your lips.

His headphones fall around his neck. He sets his laptop down onto your desk with a dull thunk. The next thing to drop is you when Chris seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the mattress. The somber atmosphere of your study session is shattered by your muted laughter and Chris pressing his lips to every inch of your exposed skin he can. He saves your mouth for last.

“Hi,” he answers after kissing the living daylights out of you, the syllable soft and silky with adoration. “Missed me?”

The room’s dim lightning sets your beautiful boyfriend aglow. You drag your eyes from his brown irises with blown pupils to his sloping nose, from his disheveled dark locks to his cordate lips, so plush and warm against your own that you swear you still feel them there. 

“Always,” you say, brushing a hand over the back of his neck, your head now spinning so badly you can barely remember what you wanted to ask him. “I was starting to feel jealous of your homework.”

He chuckles. “Shit, I’ll drop out of college right now, baby. Jus’ say the word.”

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, nudging the tip of your nose against his.

“Says you.”

Your lips find his again—needless to say, your study sessions aren’t known for their productivity—and a lot of time passes before you come up for air. Even afterwards, Chris doesn’t let you go far, pulling you into his chest by the curve of your waist, nuzzling his cheek into your hairline. You only need to murmur for him to hear your question.

“Can I ask you something?”

“'Course,” he returns, and you’re close enough to sense him tighten with apprehension. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. Don’t worry.” You print a kiss to the side of his neck for extra reassurance. “It’s just…I’ve been meaning to ask how your friends feel about me.”

He tightens with something else now: surprise, you’re guessing, hoping. You hadn’t seriously considered that the answer could be negative, but it’s dawning on you now that the possibility of that isn’t zero.

“Where’s this coming from?” Chris hums, his tone opaque.

You hesitate, mentally reviewing your interactions with your boyfriend’s social circle. Hyunjin and Jisung can’t make eye contact with you when they speak to you. Minho does nothing but make eye contact with you whether he’s speaking to you or not. Jeongin and Seungmin can maintain small talk for about ten seconds before they start looking like they would rather be anywhere else. Changbin is the only one you’ve held a conversation with, and only because you were going up the same stairs at the same time and the alternative would have been mind-numbing silence.

What is the best way for you to say this?

“Well,” you begin, “I can’t help but notice that they act a little—when I’m around, they’re a bit, uh—”

“—crazy,” Chris offers. “Completely fuckin’ bat-shit crazy.”

You blink, stunned. “Yes. Exactly that.”

Chris threads a hand through your hair, the comforting gesture doing nothing to assuage your worry. It seems there’s some truth behind your impressions. Your next words are tinged with a quiet sadness.

“I’m not imagining things, then?”

“No, angel,” he sighs. “But not for the reasons you think.”

A beat passes. Chris perceives your silence as a chance to backtrack, to opt out of this conversation if it’s one he’s not ready for. He would’ve leapt at the opportunity once.

But he realizes in that moment, with your voice gentle against his ears and your touch so doting upon his skin, how much has changed since he met you: from the color of the sky to the word home and everything in between, including his cynicism towards love and all the iterations of forever it holds. 

With that epiphany comes another, then another: he wants you to know why his friends are being so weird, wants you to know about him and his past and all the wounds of his you never know you healed. Wants you to spend the rest of this forever with him.

His pointer finger dusts beneath your chin, a wordless request for you to look at him, and he nearly liquifies when you do and he finds entire constellations in your eyes. 

“It’s a lot,” he mumbles, though he suspects you know that already; he suspects you know about the other stuff, too. 

You bring your hand to the side of his face, bring your forehead to rest upon his. Your closeness washes over him like a low summer tide lapping over sandy shores, a soothing balm spreading over scorched flesh. 

“It’s you,” you answer, your voice steadier than he’s ever heard. “I will love it just the same.”

Chris' held breath comes out in shudders.

So this is warmth.

Minho and Felix are watching anime on the couch when a knock comes at their door, unfortunately during a pivotal moment of a pivotal episode. 

Minho hits pause with a ghastly groan. Felix laughs and rises to his feet, dashing into his room to grab the two silver necklaces he’ll be loaning out for the evening. “Coming!”

Outside, Chris is standing alone, hips and thighs accentuated by a pair of tight-fitting dress pants, sculpted chest and collarbones framed by a thin, cream-colored shirt with the top three buttons undone. Most of his hair has been pushed off his forehead, leaving a few locks free to fall over his right eyebrow. He’s rolling up his sleeves when Felix opens the door, veined forearms flexing as a result of the effort.

“Well?” He asks. Minho cranes his neck to look past Felix.

Both boys start to holler and whistle like excited macaques.

“What in the Calvin Klein is this?” Felix shouts, spinning Chris around by the shoulders. “You look insane, bro. Holy fuck.”

“What’s the occasion, young man?” Minho inadvertently sounds like a gruff uncle. “Where are you going dressed like that?”

Chris' laughter comes easier nowadays. What’s more, it comes in a way that reaches the rest of him, that ends in a tiny, high squeak that you really have to look for in order to hear. Felix and Minho can't help but replicate his smile. Those clothes look good on him, yes, but happiness looks even better.

“You guys are silly,” Chris giggles. He accepts the necklaces Felix hands to him. “Thanks, man. I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow.”

“No rush,” Felix replies, grinning. “Have fun, yeah?”

“We will.” Chris starts to retreat down the hallway, hands moving to slip the jewelry over his head, but not before he blows the both of them a kiss.

“Be back before ten!” Minho hollers; Chris laughs again, turns a corner, and disappears.

Felix closes the door. His smile falters fast. Minho has brought his face mere centimeters away, his expression thoroughly humorless.

“Tell me only the truth, Lee Yongbok,” he deadpans.

“O-okay—”

“Is Chris in a relationship?”

“—oh.” Felix frowns. “Well, yeah.”

Minho blanches. “How—how long?”

“One year, give or take? Anniversary’s today.”

Minho is stunned. Felix is stunned that Minho is stunned.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

#skz fic recs

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it’s a new week!!! let’s do this!!!!! (cries uncontrollably)

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send me “if i were dating you” anons

Bonus points off anon + explain why

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I generated this meme because it is exactly my life right now

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skz as princes 👑

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claire de lune | bang chan

bang chan x friend gn!reader

summary: on a particularly rough night, y/n and chan find comfort in each other's company under the moonlight

word count: 1.1k

warning: discussions of grief, losing loved ones, mentions of death, angst and a bit of bittersweet but comforting (?) fluff

authors note: i don't actually think anyone will read this but i'm missing some ppl a little more than usual tonight. i thought i'd write this as a comfort for myself and for others who feel the same too

additional note: also, after years of using tumblr, i just figured out how to do this three pictures in a row thing and i am absolutely ecstatic about it

_ _ _

The knock on his studio door snapped Chan out of his trance.

He blinked his eyes a few times, his vision slowly coming back to focus, staring at the black computer screen in front of him. How long had he been zoned out? His head drifting to other places, clinging to lingering thoughts? 

He glanced at the clock. 1:45 AM. Had it really been that long?

The knock sounded and Chan cleared his throat, “Come in.”

The door opened slightly and y/n peaked through the small gap. 

“Oh, hey you,” Chan smiled tiredly. “It’s been a while.”

Y/n smiled. “Mind if I step in?”

“You know you’re always welcome,” Chan gestured to the couch behind him. The bags under y/n’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed by him. He couldn’t deny that he held his own too. Chan had been in the studio for so long he could barely remember what time he had entered and how much time had passed.

Y/n closed the door behind them, leaning against it. 

“Why are you up so late?” Chan asked.

“I could ask you the same.”

Chan chuckled. He glanced at the time again and sighed. He looked back at y/n, “Wanna go out on a walk?”

“Yeah, I could use some fresh air.”

_ _ _

Chan and y/n didn’t really have a destination in mind. They walked quietly side by side, matching each other’s pace. Occasionally, a soft sigh would break the silence or one of the two would point out the nice weather or a stray cat on the opposite side of the street. Both carried some kind of weight, a wearing shadow looming behind them.

Eventually the two found a park and made their way to a bench. Y/n let out a sigh as they sat. Chan followed, sitting a slight distance away from them. Neither made the first move to speak, both of their hearts aching to let go of the heavy anchor in their chest, but neither were courageous enough to say the words they needed to.

Chan looked up and sighed.

“Oh,” he whispered. “It’s a half moon tonight.”

Y/n followed his gaze up to the sky. They hummed in agreement. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“You never did tell me why you were up,” Chan added.

A small pause. “Too much on my mind,” y/n mumbled.

“What were you thinking about?”

“It’s not so much of what I was thinking about,” y/n replied. “- but more of who i was thinking about,” they whispered. 

Y/n inhaled deeply and cleared their throat. “Why were you up?”

Chan chuckled, but his laughter held some heaviness. “I guess the same as you.”

After a longer silence, Chan spoke again. “Were they a friend, family... or a lover?”

“Family,” y/n spoke quietly, afraid if they spoke any louder their feelings would burst. “You?”

“Friend,” Chan sighed..

He laughed lightly. “It doesn’t get easier, does it?”

“Nope,” y/n chuckled, fiddling with the hem of their t-shirt. “I feel like every time it hits me I drown again.”

“They say it comes in waves.”

“Yeah,” y/n bit their lip as their eyes started to water, a lump building in their throat.

“Sometimes it’s unforgiving like a high tide and it completely floods and it drowns you,” Chan continued with a deep breath. “But sometimes it’s gentle and kind like the low tide on a shore on a quiet morning.”

A tear slipped passed y/n’s eye and they quickly brushed it away.

“I hate it, I really do.” their lip trembled. They inhaled shakily. “I just wish it would go away.”

“I know,” Chan said. “Me too.”

He couldn’t tell when the first tear had fallen, quickly wiping away the tears smudged on his cheeks. 

“I just don’t know how to deal with all of this pain that I have left, all of this love I have left for them. I don’t know where to put it. I don’t know how anyone lives with it. How the world just keeps spinning but I’m still stuck here.”

“I guess we just have to learn to live with it,” Chan whispered. “Slowly, step by step. We put the love we have left for them into the way we live.”

He paused, and breathed shakily. “Maybe by smiling a little more for them, or doing that crazy thing we’re scared of, just living more for them - because they would’ve wanted that for us.” His voice wavered, “They would’ve wanted us to be happy.”

Y/n sniffled. “You have a really good way with words.”

“Funny.” Chan laughed through his tears. “People say that a lot.”

“Sometimes, I feel really lost without them. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself, with my life.” y/n spoke. “They used to be a call away and now, I don’t know what to do when I need them the most.”

“It’s hard, learning to live and grow.” Chan said. “As you get older, you grow apart or you have to learn how to keep growing on your own.” 

He sniffled. “But they’re always looking out for us, even when they’re gone. You just need to look for the signs.”

“Do you think they can see us from up there?”, y/n asked, looking back up at the sky.

“I think they do. They always watch over us, in the stars.” Chan pointed up in the far distance, to a small cluster of stars surrounding the moon. 

The two sat in silence again, both looking up at the stars, the moonlight washing over them with a soft glow, wrapping them in a gentle embrace.

“For what it’s worth, I think they would be really proud of who you are today.” Chan looked at y/n.

Y/n’s eyes welled with tears again. “You really think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you,” y/n said quietly. They glanced at Chan. “For what it’s worth, I know that they’re really proud of you too Chan.”

Chan remained silent for a moment, composing himself before he replied. “Thank you, y/n.”

They sat together quietly for a few more minutes, each allowing the other to feel their own heaviness in their chest, in their own time. 

After some time passed, the only sound heard was the distant chirp of crickets and their quiet breathing.

“Do you want to head back?”, y/n asked.

Chan looked back up at the moon and exhaled shakily. “I think I’d like to stay here for a bit longer, look at the stars a little more.”

“I think I’ll stay a little bit longer too.”

Up above them, in the light of the moon in the dark sky, a pair of stars shined a little brighter.

#omg I’m gonna cry 😭 #tysm for ur kind words <3 it rlly means a lot and I rlly appreciate it #I’m so glad you liked my story #sending a big hug to u <3

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HELLO

brb gonna go DIE

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one day I’ll finally write that ridiculously elaborate fanfiction that I’ve been carefully constructing in my daydreams for months and then you’ll be sorry. you’ll all be sorry.

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coming soon 🍿

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this is so insane oh my gosh I’ve been in an absolute brain rot over the photo shoot and this is the cherry on top of the cake my goodness you captured hyunjin so well and usgdhdjsjsjsjs I’m just screaming into the void now

Breathe

hyunjin x photographer!reader. friends to lovers with so so much tension and pining. hyunjin is too pretty (yet again). suggestive in the end and reader is wearing a dress. inspired by Bathtub hyunjin.

thank you hyunjin yet again for being my eternal muse and inspiring this brainrot. wrote this while listening to All mine by plaza so.. please enjoy <333 feedback is highly appreciated 🫶🏻

Is it possible to drown in the depths of your emotions, until breathing becomes a forgotten process, one that eludes each one of your senses?

Yes, you believe, if standing before a vision of ethereal beauty, as you are now, all encapsulated within Hwang Hyunjin’s being.

The camera slightly shakes in your grasp as you linger by the threshold of the bathroom, eyeing Hyunjin’s silhouette submerged in the waters. He’s sitting inside the bathtub, fingers running through his raven locks, awaiting your return.

He doesn’t seem to notice your presence, nor do you wish him to. Instead, you remain silent by the door, allowing yourself a few seconds to savor the intoxicating aura he exudes.

See, he isn’t doing anything particular, nor is he adorned in anything enticing— a simple white shirt and matching linen pants. And yet, his presence fills the air, compelling oxygen particles to flee from your being, leaving you transfixed, unable to do anything but gaze at him.

“I can feel you staring,” he remarks casually, his eyes still drawn before him as he leans back, tapping the edge of the tub with his ring-clad fingers.

Your heart pulses against your ribs, a dance that the organ knows intimately by now, one that Hyunjin alone can orchestrate. It isn’t the first time he’s had this effect on you, it is a familiar territory you first breached when Minho introduced you to him.

Hyunjin is a friend, but his hands find your waist more times than deemed platonic, and you like his touch much more than you’d like to admit.

“I'm assessing my subject, you know?” A faint grin dances upon your lips as you approach the bathtub. Hyunjin is doing you a favor— you just booked your first photography gig, and your client only has one condition: to shoot it in a bathtub. You wanted to translate your vision to life beforehand, and Hyunjin volunteered to help you.

“And how do I look?” he inquires, his smile a sugary dream that coaxes forth his left dimple. You place your camera gently on the countertop, bending down to inspect him up close.

His eyelids glisten with the golden glitter you delicately applied earlier. His skin is dewy, glistening underneath the warm lightning, and his lips drip crimson, courtesy of the cherry chapstick you carefully tapped into place.

There is always a myriad of visions that come to your mind when you think of Hyunjin— a blazing fire where each flame surges higher towards the heavens, a burning dance of passion and confidence; or a delicate red rose standing resilient in an empty field, vulnerable yet unwavering in its strength.

And now, you see a siren, beckoning mortals with a voice of beauty, ensnaring them with its hypnotic allure, much like he captivates you in this moment.

“You look nice,” you settle on saying, and he playfully pouts, his thumb grazing against your wrist lightly, akin to the delicate flutter of a butterfly's wing. “That's it? You never compliment me properly.”

“Someone’s gotta keep your ego in check,” you shrug, grabbing a dozen of roses and scattering them all around his body. You nod, satisfied with the outcome, finally retrieving your camera.

“Let's start with a simple shot, look at the camera, as you would when seducing someone.”

Instead of looking at the lens, Hyunjin's gaze finds yours first. With a deliberate slowness, his eyes trace the contours of your form, sending delicious shivers down your spine. His pupils dilate, his gaze darkens, before he reluctantly tears his eyes away, finally shifting his focus to the camera.

it takes you a few beats longer to find your voice once again.

“Hold still, one… two… three,” you murmur, capturing a few shots, pausing for a few seconds to admire the warmth of the light bouncing off his honeyed skin. “Perfect.”

“Me or the picture?” he teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and you roll yours in response.

“The photographer.”

“You’re right, you're perfect,” he replies simply, and you're momentarily taken aback, your eyes widening slightly. He notices, a small smile playing on his lips as you grab his hand to adjust his pose.

“You aren't allowed to speak anymore,” you declare, guiding his index finger to his lips while his head rests on his other curled fist. He grins, before his expression morphs into a smoldering gaze, one that blankets your skin in hues of red from its sheer intensity.

“Look at me this time,” you instruct, and he nods obediently, directing his gaze towards you. Though your eyes remain fixed on the lens, you can sense the intensity of his gaze piercing through you—suddenly, the white dress you're wearing feels too sheer to contain the flames ignited by his stare.

“Mm,” you hum in approval as you look at the result. A sweet realization washes over you as you notice the subtle shift in his gaze— does he know his eyes unconsciously soften when they land on you?

With each click of the camera, your nerves dissipate, replaced by a growing confidence as each shot turns out exquisitely. They look worthy of gracing billboards worldwide, a privilege of working with a model as beautiful as him, one who portrays emotions as if they were crafted solely for him to feel.

“Good, let's try an overhead shot now,” you instruct, slinging the camera strap around your neck before climbing into the bathtub, legs on either side of his body. You’re hovering over him as he gazes up at you, his fluttering eyelashes echoing the erratic beat of your heart.

Your eyes briefly trace the contours of his now-translucent white shirt, a veil that delicately clings to his form, accentuating the sculpted lines of his physique—the arc of his v-line melding seamlessly into the fabric of his trousers. He possesses the body of a masterful dancer, a muse Michelangelo himself would have revered.

“Take off your shirt,” you suddenly request, and though your words are met with a quirked eyebrow, he obliges effortlessly. With a fluid motion, he peels the garment from his frame, sending it sailing across the bathroom's expanse.

“Good?” he questions but you remain silent because words have suddenly become beyond your grasp. Your client's request for a portrait suddenly feels inadequate and you almost itch to cancel it, because you know it won't exude the same beauty as Hyunjin’s. For each fiber of his being flusters you, makes you hyper aware of your every pulse point and how they all come together to chant Hyunjin’s name.

“Look up at me as you lean back,” you finally say, positioning the camera directly above his head. With each click, your heartbeat speeds up even more at the sight— collarbones and arms bathed in the play of light and shadow, his long, wet hair cascading over broad shoulders, and worse of all, a faint smirk that graces his placid face, as if he's aware of how breathtaking he looks in this moment.

“Should I do this?” he asks, picking up a rose and brushing its dewy petals against his lips. You swallow hard, nodding meekly before swiftly capturing a few more frames.

Emotions twist you into a peculiar being, yearning for your very soul to liquefy, transforming into the water droplets adorning the rose's petals, longing to caress Hyunjin’s lips too.

Hyunjin suddenly straightens his posture, hands coming to rest gently on your calves, fingers dancing along the hems of your dress with a delicate touch.

“How’d I do? Do I look good for you?” he asks and your knees weaken beneath you, his words rendering you a merciless leaf, swayed by the fiery winds he commands, with his words, with his touch, with his eyes, all solely on you.

“For me?” you echo, and he nods, his hand moving languidly up and down your leg, pausing delicately at your knee.

“Mm. You're the only one I want to impress.”

Your response escapes your being breathlessly. “And why is that?”

“Didn't you ask me not to speak?” he grins, running a hand through his hair. Swiftly, you place your camera on the counter before kneeling down, your thighs now brushing against his own.

“Speak,” you command, and in an instant, he seizes your waist, drawing your body close until you're straddling him, legs enveloping his middle.

“Say it again,” he whispers, and you thread your fingers through the strands of his hair, gently tugging at the edges until his head tilts back, exposing the expanse of his neck.

“I said…” you trail off, leaning in until your nose grazes the warmth of his skin.

Being this close to Hyunjin isn't unfamiliar to you; your interactions have always teetered on the brink of almost-kisses, your bodies drawn together like magnets, two halves of an orange yearning to reunite.

Yet, this moment feels different, much more fateful, as if the universe has granted you one final opportunity—to finally ignite in passion or perish into ash.

“Tell me. I want to know,” you urge, your voice a whisper against his skin, laden with unspoken desires.

“Because... I like you a lot. So much that you're the only one I think of all day. And I want you to like me too. I feel like I need it to breathe.”

His response catches you off guard with its vulnerability, the intimacy it drapes on this moment. The water envelops your intertwined bodies as your hands find solace atop his chest, his rapid heartbeat seeping into your palm.

“I always forget how to breathe around you,” you confess, a sheepish smile gracing your lips. The grin that blooms on his face is radiant, casting a glow on the room that cannot be replicated by artificial lighting.

“If you forget how to breathe, I'll give you all my oxygen,” he promises, his thumb tracing gently across your cheekbones. You see the sun in his smile, feel its warmth in his words that burn you. “I think it always belonged to you anyway,” he murmurs, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours. “I think... I wanna give you back what's yours. Would you let me, pretty?” he asks, his voice a tender plea.

And amidst all the planets you know and the countless universes that may exist, you cannot fathom a single one where your answer would be anything but yes.

“Please,” you whisper, and his lips crash against yours in a fervent dance.

Your lips part before swiftly meeting again, and you close your eyes, surrendering to a world where all your senses converge to breathe Hyunjin in—your hands exploring the contours of his chest, your mouth savoring the sweetness of his lips infused with your cherry chapstick, your nose inhaling his scent, a delicate blend of vanilla and tobacco pulling you into a dizzying dance, your ears catching the gentle rhythm of his breaths and the faint thud of his heartbeat, all resonating within you.

And you don't need your eyes to see Hyunjin; he's indelibly etched behind your eyelids from all the time you've spent admiring him before.

“Fuck," he whispers as he draws back, “I should have kissed you much sooner.”

“Mm?” you grin, intertwining your hands behind his neck, “Was it that good?”

“You have no idea what you do to me, don’t you?”

“Then show me,” you grin, a playful glint in your eyes.

His gaze sparkles with mischief, his lips curling into a self-assured smirk, his hands finding your waist once more. Breathing is not necessary it gives you Hyunjin in the end.

“Oh, I will.”

#Skz fic recs #straykids fic recs

[starlost-andfound]

how i feel when someone reblogs my stuff with a really really nice tag

[starlost-andfound]

this was so :((( also the a/n girl how did you not think this wasn't good?! you have me choking on tears after midnight this was so beautifully written love love love

Keep it together

Pairing: Chan x femReader

Word Count: 2199

Summary: You come back to an empty home, overwhelmed after a shitty day. Once Chan's there he makes sure to take care of you.

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, cuddles, emotional hurt!comfort

A/N: My dear friend and editor Miya @miyaluvvsyou wrote this beautiful comfort fic for Channie, trying to make me believe that it's "just a lil sth and probably not good"...please, help me prove her otherwise🤭🖤

Pushing the front door to your home open, you drag your tired body inside and let it slam shut behind you, ignoring the sound that normally makes you flinch. You slide off your shoes, drop your bag and keys on the nearby table, and take off your jacket to hang it up on the hook next to the door. You turn towards your living room, taking a few steps into your home. The air is still, silence clouding the air as you realize no one is home besides you. The sunlight peaks through your windows, and subtlety illuminates the space just enough to see the features of your home. 

You walk past the living room and towards the stairs to your bedroom, stripping the clothes from your body in the process. As you reach your bedroom, you drop your clothes in the laundry basket by the door and head into the master bathroom, leaving the door open. Standing in front of the sink, you look into the mirror and you inhale a shaky breath, exhaling as you examine your features while only standing in your bra and panties. 

Your hair, now frizzy and all over the place from its neat style this morning, is the first thing you see. The dark circles resting under your eyes threaten to deepen with one more sleepless night. Your eyes were red and puffy from rubbing them all day, also ruining your makeup you put effort into this morning. Your skin was slightly paler than normal. As you take in the sight, tears begin to brim your eyelids, and you take a shaky, deep breath to center yourself. You were drained in every sense of the word, and it was very apparent in your appearance, though you tried to hide it. 

And all you wanted was him.

A tear escaped and rolled down your face, but you wiped it away quickly with a sniffle. Moving towards your shower, you turn on the hot water and let the steam envelop the room for a couple of minutes while you continue wiping away the tears still escaping your eyelids. 

Keep it together just enough to shower. Wash the day away, and you will be fine…

You repeat the same words in your head as you strip from your underwear and step into the scalding water, letting it welcome you with a deep sigh. You try not to waste any time and energy getting to work on washing your body. With every scrub of the soapy cloth, you imagine every single worry and inconvenience from the week being taken away. But no matter how hard you scrub, your mind can’t seem to relax. The flowing hot water only giving you temporary relief from the icy atmosphere in your mind. And you can’t stay in the shower forever, as much as you want to sink down to the floor and let the water consume you. You resist the urge and continue cleaning your body until you’re satisfied. 

Finishing your shower and getting out, you wrap a towel around your body and walk back to the bedroom. Grabbing your lotion, you sit at the edge of the bed and moisturize your body as you get lost in your thoughts again, staring at the floor and spacing out. Your body moves on autopilot, making sure to cover every inch of skin with the sweet-scented lotion as you’ve done countless times before. If anyone were to walk in, they would think you’re just doing your normal routine. But they’d have no idea of the depressive storm brewing in your head.

Keep it together. You’ll be under the covers and away from the world soon…

As you continue your routine on autopilot, you tug one of his t-shirts over your head, slip on a pair of panties, and sit on your side of the bed, facing the window. Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply and hold it in. The tears that were in your waterline begin to slide down your cheeks. You exhale shakily, and before you can stop it, the tears fall faster. You begin to cry, feeling your mind and body give in to the breakdown you have been avoiding all day. As your sobs get louder, your body slides down onto the floor, leaning back against the bed, and your hands reach up to cover your face. You cry your heart out, trying to keep your heart from racing out of your chest. 

You don’t hear Bang Chan come home almost an hour later. He’s humming to himself as he closes the door, guiding it so it won’t slam, and puts his keys in the bowl on the table. As he takes his shoes off, he notices yours and smiles to himself, putting his bag next to yours. “(Y/N), I’m home, love!” He calls out to you. Taking off his hoodie and hanging it next to the door, he turns towards the living room, expecting to see you. 

But he’s met with nothing but the still silence of the home. There weren’t any lights on, just the few rays of sunlight coming through the window. There wasn’t any movement coming from the kitchen. As he walked further in, he noticed the tv wasn’t on either, couch unoccupied. 

“(Y/N)? Are you home, baby?” Chan called out again, his eyebrows raised as he awaits for a response. But none came, and he frowned. 

Strange.

Taking his phone out of his pocket, he opens it and calls your phone, listening to the ringing. A couple of seconds later, he hears the vibration from your phone and looks around to locate the sound. He follows the vibration back to your purse, where he sees your ringing phone with his name on the screen. He looks around once more before ending the call. He softly hums and begins to make his way upstairs, 2 steps at a time. Maybe you were in the bathroom or in the shower.

Chan notices the bedroom door open and looks inside, standing in the doorway. His eyes scan the room before he sees the top of your head poking out from your side of the bed. He exhales with a small smile and slowly walks in, trying not to make noise to surprise you. But his smile fades as he gets closer to you and hears your small sniffles. Are you crying?

“Baby?” Chan speaks gently to get your attention. Your head snaps up to meet his gaze, and his heart drops at the sight. You’re sitting on the floor in his t-shirt, one shoulder exposed and crossed legged. Your eyes are bloodshot red and puffy, tears flowing. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you sniffle but struggle to breathe. My poor baby..

He’s kneeling down in front of you not even a second later, his hands cupping your cheeks and wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “(Y/N) what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen?” Chan rattles out questions as he closely examines your body. You shake your head and sniffle, more tears flowing from your eyes. 

“C-Chan I-“ You struggle to get out between sniffles. You put your hands over his and close your eyes. He leans forward and kisses your nose softly, then your forehead, and finally pecks your lips so delicately. It causes you to still, taking a deep breath and inhaling his scent. It calms you enough to finally open your eyes and meet his gaze. 

He looks at you with a pained expression and rubs your cheeks with his thumbs gently. “What’s wrong, princess? What’s upsetting you, hm?” He asks sincerely. Chan hated seeing you upset, especially if he’s the one that causes it. But since he’s just gotten home, he doesn’t think he might be the cause this time. 

“I don’t k-know, but hold me p-please” You whimper and wrap your arms around his neck. Chan sits back against the wall and pulls you into his lap, holding you close to his chest as he rubs your back. You bury your face in his neck and sniffle, trying to steady yourself in his arms. 

Chan rubs soothing circles on your back and shushes you softly. You instinctively pull him impossibly closer, taking deep breaths. “It’s okay, babygirl. I’m right here. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” You nod at his words. “We can sit here as long as you’d like, okay?”

“O-okay Channie.” You whisper into his neck, steadying your beating heart as you find comfort in his arms. 

The two of you sit like that for 2 hours. Once your sniffles died down and the tears stopped flowing, you curled up in Chan’s lap, subconsciously trying to shrink yourself. He continued to rub your back while planting soft kisses on your head every now and then. He even started to hum one of your favorite songs to help steady your heartbeat. He didn’t complain about being on the floor for so long, he just wanted you to be okay. Once the silence was in the air long enough, he spoke up. “How ya feeling, love?”

“I’m okay…” You shyly reply, shifting a little in his lap. “I’m sorry I couldn’t-“ You begin to try explaining yourself, but Chan interrupted you almost immediately. 

“Shh hey, don’t apologize to me. My concern is you, no matter what.” He looks into your eyes as he speaks reassurance to you, letting the hand that’s not rubbing your back gently caress your face. “If you’re not ready to talk about it, it’s okay. I won’t pressure you.”

You nod and your eyes flutter as he leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead. With a sniffle, you begin to speak. “I just had a really tense work week and once I got home, my body just…broke down. It’s just been so-“ The tears begin to rim around your eyes as you explain, and you take a pause to take a deep breath. Chan notices and kisses your forehead, running a gentle finger underneath your eyes to wipe away your tears. You take his hand and look into his eyes. “Thank you, Channie.” You speak lowly, but sincerely. 

“Don’t thank me, it’s my job to make sure you are okay baby.” He speaks softly with a smile. You match the small smile resting on his face and nod. “Do you wanna sit here for a little longer still?”

“Can we lay in bed and cuddle? You’re probably uncomfortable from sitting like this for a while. Especially with me sitting on top of you.” You give him an apologetic look, while an adorable pout rests on your lips.

Chan shakes his head. “You know I’ll never complain when you’re sitting on my lap, princess.” He says, wiggling his eyebrows. You gasp softly and slap his shoulder playfully, smiling as he giggled. “But we can lay down and cuddle baby, whatever you want.” He chuckles and kisses you. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and moving to straddle his lap. He wraps his arms around your legs and stands up with ease, causing a squeal to leave your lips in the middle of the kiss. He chuckles and kisses you again as he takes a few steps towards the bed and lays you on your back. 

You keep your arms around his neck and wraps your legs around his waist to keep him close. He smiles and kisses your forehead and cheeks, going back to your lips for a soft peck. You whine softly and try to connect your lips again, but he pulls back just enough to be out of reach, a grin that flashes his dimples rests on his lips. “Channieee” 

“Uhn uhn, cuddling only princess. That’s what you asked for.” He raised an eyebrow, still grinning. 

You sigh and pout at him. “Just a little kiss?” You give him the best boba eyes you can manage. 

But he doesn’t crack, giving your pouty lips a quick peck before he playfully slaps your thigh. “There’s your kiss. Now get under the covers while I change my clothes.” He says, giggling at your stunned face from his movement. He gives you one more small peck before standing up and going into that closet to change. You smile to yourself and crawl under the covers, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. 

Chan comes out of the closet in a pair of sweatpants but his chest bare. He climbs into bed and underneath the covers, pulling your body close to his. You lay your head on his chest and intertwine your legs, feeling safe and sound in his arms. He kisses your temple and smiles. “I love you darling.”

“I love you more, Channie. So much more.” You speak, placing a kiss on his chest and smiling to yourself. You turn on Netflix and you watch that K-Drama you both have been waiting to watch, feeling that much needed peace you craved just hours ago. 

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143

#stray kids fic recs #skz fic recs

[starlost-andfound]

claire de lune | bang chan

bang chan x friend gn!reader

summary: on a particularly rough night, y/n and chan find comfort in each other's company under the moonlight

word count: 1.1k

warning: discussions of grief, losing loved ones, mentions of death, angst and a bit of bittersweet but comforting (?) fluff

authors note: i don't actually think anyone will read this but i'm missing some ppl a little more than usual tonight. i thought i'd write this as a comfort for myself and for others who feel the same too

additional note: also, after years of using tumblr, i just figured out how to do this three pictures in a row thing and i am absolutely ecstatic about it

_ _ _

The knock on his studio door snapped Chan out of his trance.

He blinked his eyes a few times, his vision slowly coming back to focus, staring at the black computer screen in front of him. How long had he been zoned out? His head drifting to other places, clinging to lingering thoughts? 

He glanced at the clock. 1:45 AM. Had it really been that long?

The knock sounded and Chan cleared his throat, “Come in.”

The door opened slightly and y/n peaked through the small gap. 

“Oh, hey you,” Chan smiled tiredly. “It’s been a while.”

Y/n smiled. “Mind if I step in?”

“You know you’re always welcome,” Chan gestured to the couch behind him. The bags under y/n’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed by him. He couldn’t deny that he held his own too. Chan had been in the studio for so long he could barely remember what time he had entered and how much time had passed.

Y/n closed the door behind them, leaning against it. 

“Why are you up so late?” Chan asked.

“I could ask you the same.”

Chan chuckled. He glanced at the time again and sighed. He looked back at y/n, “Wanna go out on a walk?”

“Yeah, I could use some fresh air.”

_ _ _

Chan and y/n didn’t really have a destination in mind. They walked quietly side by side, matching each other’s pace. Occasionally, a soft sigh would break the silence or one of the two would point out the nice weather or a stray cat on the opposite side of the street. Both carried some kind of weight, a wearing shadow looming behind them.

Eventually the two found a park and made their way to a bench. Y/n let out a sigh as they sat. Chan followed, sitting a slight distance away from them. Neither made the first move to speak, both of their hearts aching to let go of the heavy anchor in their chest, but neither were courageous enough to say the words they needed to.

Chan looked up and sighed.

“Oh,” he whispered. “It’s a half moon tonight.”

Y/n followed his gaze up to the sky. They hummed in agreement. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“You never did tell me why you were up,” Chan added.

A small pause. “Too much on my mind,” y/n mumbled.

“What were you thinking about?”

“It’s not so much of what I was thinking about,” y/n replied. “- but more of who i was thinking about,” they whispered. 

Y/n inhaled deeply and cleared their throat. “Why were you up?”

Chan chuckled, but his laughter held some heaviness. “I guess the same as you.”

After a longer silence, Chan spoke again. “Were they a friend, family... or a lover?”

“Family,” y/n spoke quietly, afraid if they spoke any louder their feelings would burst. “You?”

“Friend,” Chan sighed..

He laughed lightly. “It doesn’t get easier, does it?”

“Nope,” y/n chuckled, fiddling with the hem of their t-shirt. “I feel like every time it hits me I drown again.”

“They say it comes in waves.”

“Yeah,” y/n bit their lip as their eyes started to water, a lump building in their throat.

“Sometimes it’s unforgiving like a high tide and it completely floods and it drowns you,” Chan continued with a deep breath. “But sometimes it’s gentle and kind like the low tide on a shore on a quiet morning.”

A tear slipped passed y/n’s eye and they quickly brushed it away.

“I hate it, I really do.” their lip trembled. They inhaled shakily. “I just wish it would go away.”

“I know,” Chan said. “Me too.”

He couldn’t tell when the first tear had fallen, quickly wiping away the tears smudged on his cheeks. 

“I just don’t know how to deal with all of this pain that I have left, all of this love I have left for them. I don’t know where to put it. I don’t know how anyone lives with it. How the world just keeps spinning but I’m still stuck here.”

“I guess we just have to learn to live with it,” Chan whispered. “Slowly, step by step. We put the love we have left for them into the way we live.”

He paused, and breathed shakily. “Maybe by smiling a little more for them, or doing that crazy thing we’re scared of, just living more for them - because they would’ve wanted that for us.” His voice wavered, “They would’ve wanted us to be happy.”

Y/n sniffled. “You have a really good way with words.”

“Funny.” Chan laughed through his tears. “People say that a lot.”

“Sometimes, I feel really lost without them. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself, with my life.” y/n spoke. “They used to be a call away and now, I don’t know what to do when I need them the most.”

“It’s hard, learning to live and grow.” Chan said. “As you get older, you grow apart or you have to learn how to keep growing on your own.” 

He sniffled. “But they’re always looking out for us, even when they’re gone. You just need to look for the signs.”

“Do you think they can see us from up there?”, y/n asked, looking back up at the sky.

“I think they do. They always watch over us, in the stars.” Chan pointed up in the far distance, to a small cluster of stars surrounding the moon. 

The two sat in silence again, both looking up at the stars, the moonlight washing over them with a soft glow, wrapping them in a gentle embrace.

“For what it’s worth, I think they would be really proud of who you are today.” Chan looked at y/n.

Y/n’s eyes welled with tears again. “You really think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you,” y/n said quietly. They glanced at Chan. “For what it’s worth, I know that they’re really proud of you too Chan.”

Chan remained silent for a moment, composing himself before he replied. “Thank you, y/n.”

They sat together quietly for a few more minutes, each allowing the other to feel their own heaviness in their chest, in their own time. 

After some time passed, the only sound heard was the distant chirp of crickets and their quiet breathing.

“Do you want to head back?”, y/n asked.

Chan looked back up at the moon and exhaled shakily. “I think I’d like to stay here for a bit longer, look at the stars a little more.”

“I think I’ll stay a little bit longer too.”

Up above them, in the light of the moon in the dark sky, a pair of stars shined a little brighter.

#bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan #bangchan fluff #bangchan angst