stayycalm
Stray Kids // 02’ Liner // OT8https://archiveofourown.org/users/staycalmm
37 posts
Latest Posts by stayycalm
WHO IN SKZ pt. 20
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WHO IN SKZ? Pt.19
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Who in SKZ pt.18
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Who in SKZ PT. 17
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Who is SKZ PT. 16
Who in SKZ pt.15 ✨engagement edition ✨
Who in SKZ??pt.14
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WHO IN STRAY KIDS pt.13
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WHO IN SKZ PT.12
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i have a Request! could you write a little short about Hyunjin and Fem Reader? maybe something where Reader is in paris and taking picture of the beautiful scenery and ends up taking a picture of Hyunjin? but like they dont notice till they are back at their hotel? and then they are admiring the beautiful stranger and they cant sleep so they go out on their balcony to look at the beautiful lights but little do they know a wandering Hyunjin is outside looking for inspiration for drawing/paintng and when he sees a mysterious figure on a balcony hes enthralled by their silhouette? he hurries back to his room and begins to sketch right away and he wonders who the beauty was, and then they end up meeting? sorry this is long but i really want to know how you'd write this!!
ok, first of all, I want to deeply apologize, anon, because I'm just now finding this ask??? it's been in my inbox for a year?? so please accept my deepest apology and enjoy this! 😭
Drawn to You by stayycalm
The streets of Paris hum with life as I sling my trusty Canon Rebel T7 over my shoulder, ready to conquer my ambitious agenda. Two weeks here, and yet, the city’s allure hasn’t dulled a bit. Every street corner, every café, every wrought-iron balcony layered with Gothic spires or curving Art Nouveau façades feels like a treasure to an aspiring architect like me.
On this second-to-last day, I’m determined to make the most of it. The itinerary, planned by a finance teacher who wouldn’t know a flying buttress from a baguette, has been criminally devoid of exploration. I mutter under my breath, “How can anyone come here and not explore?”
I pause at Pont Alexandre III, lifting my camera to capture the graceful curve of a bridge flanked by its gilded statues, glowing in the soft morning light. Click. I take another, angling for the perfect shot of a bride crossing with her billowing white train, the Eiffel Tower rising in the distance.
As the day unfolds, I let my instincts guide me. From the serene paths of the Tuileries Gardens to ornate windows with their curved frames, I capture it all. Then, just as the sun begins to dip low, its golden light casting long shadows across the city, I find myself facing the Eiffel Tower. Its iron lattice glows with a warmth that takes my breath away. I can’t help but do a little happy dance as I check the shot in my viewfinder, triumphant.
A text buzzes from my phone, snapping me out of my euphoria. It’s my roommate, letting me know she’s heading back to the hotel. Sighing, I tuck my phone away and begin the trek back.
Later, I sit at the desk in our room, my hair wrapped in a towel from a much-needed shower. My laptop hums softly as I transfer the day’s photos. One by one, they fill the screen, and my excitement grows with every frame. I start editing, erasing stray tourists and clutter from the pristine geometry of my shots, until I reach the final picture.
My fingers hover over the trackpad as I zoom in on a figure in the background. He’s leaning casually against the bridge railing near the Eiffel Tower, his silhouette partially lit by the fading sunlight. His dark hair falls just past his shoulders, and his profile—what little I can see—is striking.
“Wow…” The word escapes me, barely a whisper.
“What are you oooh-ing over?” My roommate’s voice startles me. She emerges from the steamy bathroom, her towel-turbaned head tilting as she raises an eyebrow at me.
I jolt, fumbling to close the photo. “Oh, you know… buildings.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Only you could get off to a building.”
I snort, but the heat rises to my cheeks. Turning back to the laptop, I save my edits and close it, needing an escape. “I’m stepping out for a sec,” I announce, grabbing a cardigan and slipping out to the balcony.
The air is cool, and the city stretches before me, a sea of glittering lights. With the sun gone, Paris seems transformed into a constellation fallen to earth, each light twinkling like a star. I lean against the stone railing, letting the sight fill me.
It’s moments like these that make Paris feel like a dream—a city so alive, yet timeless. A city of romance, indeed.
Hyunjin's POV
The sharp click of my shoes against the marble echoed through the Versace store as I stepped out, the heavy glass doors swinging open. A wave of flashing lights greeted me, relentless and blinding, a cacophony of voices calling out my name—professional photographers and STAY alike. It was always surreal, this paradoxical familiarity. I didn’t know a single face in that sea of people, yet they all knew me, or at least the version of me they thought they knew.
My lips curled into a smile, practiced but genuine in its intent. The sunglasses resting on the bridge of my nose shielded my eyes, but they couldn’t hide my gratitude. I raised a hand, waving to the crowd before blowing a kiss into the air. The gesture elicited a cheer, a ripple of excitement that followed me until I ducked into the sleek black car waiting at the curb.
Inside the car, the energy of the crowd faded, replaced by the hum of the engine and the muted bustle of Paris beyond the tinted windows. When we pulled up to the hotel, I took a moment to shed the Versace image. Gone were the statement pieces; in their place, a plain hoodie, jeans, and sneakers.
Tonight, I wasn’t Hyunjin, the idol, the "Versace prince." Tonight, I was just Hyunjin—an artist looking for inspiration in the heart of Paris.
The city’s streets welcomed me with their usual charm: cobblestone paths, golden streetlights, and the murmur of life flowing seamlessly between its residents and visitors. It should’ve been easy—a city as alive as Paris practically begged to be captured in art. Yet, as I wandered through alleyways, past street performers and cafés spilling over with laughter, nothing reached out to me. The fire I sought remained elusive, a spark I couldn’t ignite.
The Eiffel Tower loomed in the distance, its iron frame bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun. I found myself on a bridge, leaning against the railing as I stared out over the Seine. The water reflected the dying light in shimmering streaks, and the Tower cast a long shadow over the city.
“Where are you?” I muttered under my breath, the question aimed at no one in particular. A sigh escaped me as I pushed off the railing, shaking my head. Inspiration had never been this difficult to find before.
By the time the sun had dipped completely below the horizon, Paris transformed into a city of light. Neon signs buzzed, music drifted from open windows, and the streets teemed with energy. But even in the midst of all this vibrancy, I felt disconnected. My steps slowed as I glanced around one last time, taking in the tourist shops and the occasional artist sketching caricatures on the sidewalk. Still, nothing.
Frustration prickled at my skin. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. When I opened my eyes again, I froze mid-step.
She stood on a balcony a few stories above me, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the room behind her. Her head was tilted upward, as if catching the glimmer of the city’s lights on her skin. Her hair moved with the breeze, framing a face so serene it made my chest tighten. The faint flush on her cheeks, the way her lips curved ever so slightly—it was as if she belonged to this moment, this city, more than anyone I’d ever seen.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. I drank in the sight of her, committing every detail to memory. Then, a voice called her from inside, and she turned, disappearing into the room. I waited, hoping she’d reappear, but the balcony remained empty.
Shaking my head, I forced myself to move. My steps were quicker now, my heart racing with something I couldn’t quite name. By the time I returned to my hotel room, the feeling had morphed into a need—a compulsion. I rolled up my sleeves, grabbed my charcoal pencils, and approached the easel I’d set up by the window.
The lines came easily, flowing from memory to paper as if she’d etched herself into my mind. The curve of her lips, the slope of her nose, the way her hair had danced in the wind—each stroke brought her closer to life. I worked with a fervor I hadn’t felt in weeks, adjusting, refining, until the figure on the page mirrored the one that had captivated me.
I stepped back, studying the sketch. She was there, but she wasn’t. I’d captured her image but not the essence—not yet. The fire was back, though, and I felt alive for the first time. In what felt like forever.
rubbed my eye, trying to wipe away the sleepiness threatening to overtake me as I leaned against the wall with the rest of my group. Whoever decided that 4 a.m. was a good time to fly needs to be smacked. Hard. My eyelids started to get heavy, and I began to nod off when a voice called over the loudspeaker announcing that first class for our flight could begin boarding.
I groaned and smacked my head against the wall, wincing at the dull throb that now pulsed in my temple.
"What's wrong with you?" my roommate asked, poking my side from the chair she sat in.
"I didn’t get much sleep last night," I grumbled, swatting her hand away and rubbing the sore spot on my forehead. In reality, I didn’t sleep at all. My mind kept thinking about the beautiful stranger in that photo. Was he a tourist? What was his name? Was he that beautiful up close? These were the questions that kept me awake until we had to head to the airport, where I now stood miserably as the wealthy boarded the plane first.
"Screw the rich..." I muttered under my breath, running both hands down my face. Once it was our turn to board, my group got in line. I handed the stewardess my boarding pass. She scanned it, frowned slightly, then scanned it again, her brows furrowing. A pit grew in my stomach.
"Oh no," I thought as her eyes darted over the words on her screen. She turned her gaze to me and spoke. "I’m sorry, miss, but it seems we double-booked your seat..."
I felt like I was going to throw up. My face must have turned even paler as she continued typing on her keyboard.
"But it looks like I can bump you up to business class, if that’s alright with you," she said.
My sleep-deprived brain barely processed her words. I just stared at her for a moment as she added, "Free of charge, of course, for the trouble."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, unable to form words. She printed a new boarding pass, handed it to me, and waved me through. I found our professor and gave him the update. He gave me a thumbs-up before pulling on his headphones and lowering his eye mask.
I made my way to the business class section, searching for my seat. It was in the middle row, meaning I had another seat next to mine. But when I saw the amount of space I had, I didn’t care—as long as my neighbor didn’t mind if I snored a little. I plopped down into my seat after putting away my carry-on. Letting out a sigh, I pulled the provided blanket over myself, turned to one side, and drifted off to sleep before we even took off.
I woke up to the hostess asking if I needed anything to eat or drink. Blinking my eyes, I regained consciousness and asked for water and a snack. Once I had both, I sat up a little and took in the seat I was in. It was almost like a mini cubicle with a small folding table and a TV screen. To my left was the divider between me and my neighbor, who was busy drawing something on a sketchpad. I couldn’t see his face clearly because of the mask, hat, and headphones he wore.
My attention shifted back to my snacks as I pulled out my laptop to get started on more editing. At some point, I fell asleep again but woke up before they came around to deliver more food.
"Thank you," I whispered to the steward, who smiled and nodded before moving on.
"That’s a beautiful picture," an accented voice said behind me. I whipped around to see my neighbor looking at my laptop.
"Oh, thank you," I said shyly, setting my food down. I tried to ignore the flutter in my chest from his compliment as I continued to work. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him shuffle and take off his headphones and hat, but I averted my eyes before he caught me peeking. To distract myself, I clicked on the picture of the stranger and zoomed in slightly.
My neighbor made a choked sound. When I looked back at him, his wide eyes were glued to my screen.
"Are you okay?" I asked. He looked at me, then back at the screen.
"That’s me," he said, pointing to the photo.
My gaze darted to the picture and then back to him, my eyes narrowing. "What are you—" But before I finished, he took off his mask, and the words died in my throat.
Here, next to me on this very plane, was the reason I couldn’t sleep last night. I sat there, mouth open in shock, as he looked at me with an odd expression.
"Are you serious?" I asked.
He nodded. "Why do you have my picture?"
"I wasn’t taking YOUR picture." I clicked to expand the photo. "I was taking a picture of the Eiffel Tower."
His eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed red. "Oh..." His voice was soft as he apologized.
I nodded, and we sat in awkward silence for a moment.
"What are you drawing?" I asked, trying to ease the tension, pointing at his sketchpad.
He blushed more, tilting the pad toward me. "It’s just a sketch of a woman I saw last night," he muttered, avoiding my gaze. The whole time we’d talked, he hadn’t fully looked at me. I wondered if there was something wrong with my face. But when my eyes roamed over the drawing, I tilted my head in confusion.
"She looks an awful lot like me," I chuckled, knowing that wasn’t possible. But his eyes snapped to me, then back to his drawing. His mouth opened in wonder.
"Were you staying at Hotel de la Tour Eiffel?" he asked.
My laughter died. "Yeah... How did you—" My eyes widened as we both looked at his drawing. It was me.
"Holy crap," I muttered as he shook his head in disbelief. We looked at each other again.
"I can’t believe I found you," we said in unison.
We spent the rest of the flight chatting quietly about everything and anything. Soon, we were landing, and a wave of sadness hit me. I’d never see him again. Once it was our row’s turn to exit, I grabbed my things and turned to him.
"It was nice to meet you, Hyunjin," I said with a soft smile before slowly making my way down the ramp and into the terminal. As I stood off to the side waiting for my group, I heard my name being called. I looked around to see Hyunjin waving at me.
When he reached me, he blushed, clearly embarrassed. "Sorry about that. I just..." He took a deep breath. "Can I have your number?"
I gave him a shy smile and nodded. The smile he gave me made butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I thought to myself, I might have brought home something better than pictures.
Who in SKZ pt.10
Let me know who you think in the comments 😂
HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP I GIT VIP FOR CHICAGO!!
IM GOING TO SEE THEM IN JUNE!!!!!
Who in SKZ pt.5
Who in STRAY KIDS pt.4
Who in STRAY KIDS pt.3
im back with another massage question cause i just got the first massage of my life, am i supposed to still be sore after?????? its been like two days and i still ache 😩
It’s pretty normal to be sore after a massage especially if you’ve never had one before, make sure to drink lots of water and maybe soak in a warm bath or hot tub (if available 😂)
also if you could only massage one member who would you pick???????
All of them *cough*
But if I could only pick one…… either Felix or Changbin.
Felix cause after his herniated disc I wanna know how his back is doing, and Changbin cause I mean….. you know….. ✨muscles✨
Who in STRAY KIDS pt.2
i beg of thee to write star lost, the description sounds so good i might die if i dont read it.
I’ll get there eventually! I’m currently working on Megaverse but I promise I’ll write it!!😭😭😭✨💛
Who in STRAY KIDS?
Hi Caly! i hope you are doing well, i've been following your work on ao3 and i'm super excited about Megaverse! i was wondering if you could give a spoiler at all?? did Changbin really do it??????? i'm dying to know!! anyway keep up the good work!!! luv ya!
Hello! I’m doing well! Working on the next chapter actually! Not really a spoiler but I think the next chapter is my favorite so far! Thank you for your love and support 💛💛💛
It’s just as painful for me as it is for you😂
me, reading my own incomplete writing : *gasp* and then what happened?
hihi! i love your story on ao3, your name means home <- that one. uhm and i don't really comment a lot but i really do appreciate your writing and rereading this fic always lights up my day <33
Thank you so much! That really means a lot! 🥺💛
I’m also in the process of writing another story! I have like 3 different ideas that are fighting for attention but I’m trying to nail down one to focus on!
They reassure my brain that I’m not a terrible writer😂
I love reading all of them!
AO3 Comments are SO SO SOOOOOOO important because you can only leave Kudos ONCE. You add to the hit count ONCE (every 24 hours).
So whenever someone updates their fic, the ONLY way an author knows who their regular readers are is if they comment on each chapter. And we WANT to know who's still reading.
Believe it or not, some of us think about the name that pops up constantly in the comments and go "omg I can't wait to see what they think of THIS SPECIFIC SCENE cuz I KNOW they'll say something about it!!!"
