summeryaesakuraa

[summeryaesakuraa]

"You're...beautiful." | Saja Boys

Featuring: Jinu and Baby Saja

Summary: In which their demon forms are spontaneously revealed to their s/o and their first response to it is to tell them how pretty they look.

Warnings: Jinu's significant other is verbally mean with their show of affection ( totally not self-projecting ). I kept the reason of why their demon form was revealed to you purposely vague, but it's heavily implied that Baby was going to kill you after you found out. With that said, read at your own discretion!

A/N: This movie and its soundtrack has been stuck in my head for nearly a full week and now I'm making it everyone's problem. I literally wrote this because I couldn't stop imagining calling my two favorite saja boys pretty in their true forms..

Tagging: My fellow baby saja lover @nursedflowers / @popzev 

Extra: I officially have a taglist! If you liked this piece, please consider grabbing a loyalty card at the front counter!! <3

"You don't have to lie," Was the retort you were met with, followed up by a solemnly polite, "Really, it's okay. I won't hurt you... I...can't, not ever.."

"I'm not lying," You said firmly, and the narrowed look you shoot him afterwards is baffling to him.

"You have to be," He argues before suddenly sighing out and slumping his shoulders. The sight honestly reminded you of a sad, wet cat.

"You weren't supposed to find out like this," He muttered as if it were a chore to even so much as speak now. Moreover, there's a pregnant pause he takes after that before he admits, "You were never supposed to find out about this.."

"But I have," You tell him, and your hand inches closer to his and encases the discolored skin when it's finally in reach.

He doesn't pull his hand away. He tells himself that it's because he's scared of cutting you with his now elongated, sharper nails even as his fingers curl around your hand and his thumb cards along your knuckles.

It's out of habit, he further tells himself.

"I know now," You continue, "I know and I haven't ran or tried to attack you. That should be proof enough that I'm not lying."

"You haven’t ran because you're scared stiff," He spouts, "And you haven't attacked me because I'd kill you."

And you confidently snap back, "No, you wouldn’t. You said it yourself," throwing in, "Besides, you couldn’t hurt a fly even if you wanted to — last week when you broke that window trying to kill one is proof of that."

Your tone was laced with its usual lilt of snarky humor. That alongside how even your voice sounded in comparison to his own — which dipped and raised like an ocean's agitated wave — left a bitter taste in his mouth and made his brows knit together.

The usual soothing air normalcy brought you two was thriving more than ever, smothering any and all tension under its cool pillow. It was unnerving the way he almost felt at ease in the moment.

"You aren't understanding what's happening right now," He snapped, slipping his hand away as his voice rumbled with desperation, "Your boyfriend turned into a monster right before your eyes! You just found out that I've been lying to you all this time! I- I'm a soul-eating beast from the depths of hell! I'm—!"

"You’re Jinu. My pretty, kindhearted, halfwit of a boyfriend."

"I̷'̷m̷ ̷n̷o̷t̷!̷" He shouted, his voice mutating with a demonic base that shook the very earth's core with a red, voluminous quake.

A breath leaves him as even silence comes to a sudden halt — shaking like the erratic breathing that follows it. Fear clouded his vision, and in that moment, his judgment lapses and his golden eyes finally glance over to look at you.

Your eyes had been blown wide by saucers of surprise, and yet, you still don’t look nearly as terrified as you should be. Jinu sighs to himself once more.

"I'm... I'm not kind," He began, his voice trembling due to how much he's forcing every fiber in his being to keep his tone even, "And I'm definitely not pretty — not like this.."

"...You're right.." You finally, finally admit, and Jinu despise the way his heart clenches and breaks apart — hates just how much it hurts to hear those words spoken by the same voice that's whispered sweet nothings in his ears and leave the same lips that's kissed—

"Hey!"

Startled by the brief contact of your damp lips on the markings that line his cheekbone, Jinu jumps back. Immediately, his eyes find yours for answers to this clear contradiction of actions and words, and it's then that you finally finish your sentence.

"You're probably right about what you said — you know yourself better than anyone else after all. And, only you've gone through your past," You explain as you stepped forward to close the small gap of distance quickly. Instinctively, Jinu goes to take a step back, but you catch his wrist.

His eyes glance down at your hands that so boldly grip his purple skin like a vice before looking up to meet a similar sight of narrowed, fiery eyes.

"But even so, no one is allowed to talk about my boyfriend like that, not even himself," You snap. Jinu opens his mouth, and you can tell there's a protest at the tip of his tongue so you're quick to continue before he gets the chance to speak.

"In my eyes, Jinu will always be that pretty prince who swept me off my feet that night in the rain. ..That corny guy who appeared on my balcony with a bundle of roses like in those dumb romance movies we'd watch together during his rare free time just to ask me to go somewhere with him. That... That overconfident idiot who wore a shit ton of expensive cologne and got all dressed up for our first date just to bring me up to the mountains and have a picnic—"

He couldn't help the offended look that crosses his face, "You said you liked it—!"

"My point is," You cut off with a roll of your eyes, "I love being around you, experiencing all these moments with you....loving you — my heart belongs to you," You close the distance. Grabbing his other hand and pulling his arms around your waist.

Your hands glide up to cup his jawline, your touch light as your fingertips brush along the deep purple artwork carved into his skin. It's then that the fire in your eyes is finally put out and your eyes soften impossibly, revealing the smoldering adoration that lingers in your hues that never faded or lost its thick steam no matter how long he stares.

To put things bluntly, you looked utterly and hopelessly in love...with him. This version of him.

"I love that my heart belongs to you, Jinu," You confess in a soft, almost bashful murmur, "And every side of you that you show me only makes me fall more and more in love with you...even this side of you — no, especially this side of you—"

"I get it," He shoots out, "I get it..." He repeats. His voice wrapped in a shaky, rasped breath as his gaze shy's away from yours and he finally allows himself the pleasure of letting your words sink into his skin, "You love me...all of me.."

You huff, "Finally you see that. For a sec, I thought I'd have to go up to the highest building and scream 'I love my boyfriend Jinu!' at the top of my lungs to get it through that thick head of yours."

It's his turn to puff out breaths and roll his eyes now.

"..You're going to regret this," He sighs out defeatedly, though he still finds a small smile breaking way on his face and his forehead leaning forward to kiss yours.

"Wanna bet?" You ask, "When you lose, you gotta let me paint your nails in this form."

Baby pauses. His claws raised with the intent of staining them in your blood and his eyes — which were fueled by the gleam of anguish and anger of what has happened and what he now had to do — widening as your hushed confession reached his ears.

Here he was, standing before you with his skin dyed a freakish, abnormal hue of purple and his clashing, golden eyes glowing and glaring at you with nothing but his obvious intentions to spray your blood along the walls and devour your soul...and those disgusting marks inking his skin like some bad tattoo job. Surely enough, he looked terrifying — a monster straight out of a grim fairytale — and yet...

..Yet you sat there in the corner with those stupidly pretty eyes of yours scanning him up and down as though he were some majestic art piece in a grand museum. Your eyes lingering on the markings that corroded his face as you mumbled the first thing that came to your mind.

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't an snarling insult. It should've been, but it wasn't and he couldn't wrap his head around why. I mean, any sane person who saw someone turn into a monster out of the blue, even if that someone was their partner, would've thrown insults at him as though they were sworn enemies — and probably actually thrown an object or two along with it before shouting at him to leave.

..So why was it that you stood on the floor before him with your eyes sparkling and your mouth slightly agape? Your fingers twitching not to reach for something to use as a weapon, but to raise towards him in hopes you could graze his skin?

"Could I...?" You muttered. Your voice shook terribly. It was so obvious that you were scared, and yet you still asked with that indescribable glimmer in your eyes, "Wo- Would it be okay if...if I touched your face?"

And to that, he didn't respond. Didn't move. Didn't do anything.

So, you threw caution to the wind, stood to your feet, and laid your trembling hand along his face.

His skin was cold and rough like that of a mangled corpse — or what you'd imagine a corpse in that state would feel like — and his markings that split his skin apart served as the only smoothness to his features. It all felt so foreign to what you knew and your fingers founds themselves lost without the lack of familiarity there to guide you.

Your eyes found his once again. They seemed luminescent with danger, like a predator's gaze on prey.

...But, amongst that threatening glower, you saw it — that brief flicker of glee he always tries so hard to hide whenever your eyes set on him and the feeling of his cheek pudging against your palm as he leaned into the warmth of your touch — and it's then that the illusion shatters like fine glasswork.

Suddenly, the details that were hidden behind the thick veil of your initial fear came to light and you began to notice the state he was truly in; the way his hand quaked mid-air similar to how yours did moments ago, how shallow his breaths were and how fast they came out the small opening he just barely allowed himself as a way of making it less obvious, how damp his cheeks were and how the light of the room seemed to reflect off his entire eye rather than merely his irises.

He's crying. This supposed ruthless, cold-blooded monster had shed tears and, though you're not sure which reason it was that broke him, the simple fact he could break told you all you needed to know.

This is still baby — your baby — and a mere show of teeth and talons and a new look hadn't changed that in the slightest.

Nothing had changed, so you leaned in and placed a kiss or three as gently as you could on the markings that cracked apart his skin and underlined his glowing eyes.

Nothing had changed, so when he flinched away from the tickling butterflies of your kisses and presented a slitted menacing stare your way, you didn't cower away. Instead, you held his gaze and brushed away the tears he refused to acknowledge gliding down his face.

Nothing had changed, and to further prove that, you repeated your earlier proclamation in a firmer, steadier tone.

"You're beautiful."

And the soft affection that glides along the punctuation of your words and the graceful smile and softened eyes that's paired with it finally extinguished the flames of doubt and agony that clouded his brain and shushed the fears that whispered the worst in his ears.

The voice of the devil could no longer be heard, only the murmur of an angel, and with nothing else holding him back, he gave in. Pulling you close to allow you the opportunity to shed your wings upon him and shield him from the world.

You do so with zero hesitation, and as your warmth began to creep up his skin and his eyes grew watery for a second time, he found the voice to finally speak.

"You... You're..an idiot," He cursed. His voice quivers, but you don’t comment on it as your hand finds place in his hair instead and you chuckled lightly in his ear.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[summeryaesakuraa]

cw. college / university au. student council president! sunday x sort of-delinquent! reader. enemies to ( ??? ). reader makes suggestive comments just to tease sunday. for writings sake sunday’s surname is oak in this. this is just something silly to line up their dynamic incase i wind up posting a lot more for the au.

“English, check.”

“Math, check.”

“Chem, check.”

“Prez.” Your locker slams closed as you address him. Revealing a certain Halovian waiting neatly behind it and you give him a tired look from over your pile of class books. “Check.”

“I have told you before that is not how you should refer to me.” He barely finishes his sentence before you’re turning on your heels to walk down the hallway away from him. Barely giving him the time of day, it makes you smirk to yourself as you imagine the way it ruffles his feathers.

Literally.

“So, you were purposely ignoring my presence then?” The voice calls from behind you again. Your earlier dismissal not enough to completely lose him as you hear his footsteps keep pace with yours from behind. He even scoffs at you. “Like I do not have better things to see to than chasing you around these halls.”

Sunday Oak. President of the Student Council. Honors Student. Royal Pain in the Neck.

He was the perfect example of an elite. The whole school basically fawned over him, students and teachers alike. Everything about him was neat, perfect even. From his uniform to his grades — not a single hair or wing out of place on his unfortunately gorgeous appearance.

Apparently angel-like features and a charming personality are all you need to have the whole student body doing your bidding and running like an elite sort of organisation beneath your rule.

Well, the whole student body except you.

And Sunday hated that.

“Oh? And you’re putting your important work aside to pursue me instead? I didn’t know you felt so strongly, Prez.” You shoot back from over your shoulder, deliberately accompanying it with an exaggerated pout that you’re sure gives him a headache.

It makes Sunday snort. “Heh. You are so funny.” The sarcasm drips from his tone. Like he’s letting a little of that true personality show that you know he keeps holed up under that ‘perfect’ faux exterior. “If only you were as resilient about following school policies.”

His snark causes you to stop dead and he almost barrels right into the back of you. Knocking him all out of sorts when you turn around to face him again and he’s already frowning.

He’s looking as pleased as he always is when he sees you (Not at all). But that disgruntled look on his face only urges you to take a step closer.

“Are you just here to walk me to class? Maybe I should call it a date?” Sickly-sweet honey drips from your tone and you love the twitch it earns you in Sunday’s temple. He still tries to take his usual charming tone with you, like it will fair any better than it has been the past up-teen times he’s tried it.

“I am sure you too have grown tired of me reminding you of the dress code.” Skirt too short, too many buttons undone on your shirt. Blah, Blah, Blah. Yep, you’ve grown tired of it.

He continues anyway. “Yet, all of my critiques appear to fall on death ears. Astounding really.”

“You don’t like it? I even wore a lovely blue bra for you today.” You give him a deliberate look from beneath your lashes, and your fingers begin to toy with your already risqué uniform in a way that allows him to see the navy blue lace behind the unbuttoned collar. As if to entice him, and you see the subtle flush of pink it earns you on the tips of his ears.

“I think that is quite unnecessary.” Sunday splutters, coughs at your advances. His feathers ruffle themselves as if to brush the comment off but you consider it a win anyway. “As much as I am sure the rest of the student body appreciate the gesture. It is still not appropriate for these halls.”

“So you think it’s worth appreciating?”

“Don’t misunderstand—“

“That’s not a no, Prez~” You wave your finger in his face to cut him off and he puffs his feathers out as if he’ll explode at any moment.

That’s the opportunity you take to push in closer.

The sudden proximity makes Sunday immediately tense up when your lips all but graze against his ear, close enough to taste his cologne and you stroke your fingers along the cashmere of his adorable little sweater vest before your words take on a whisper.

“But you should know…” Your lashes flutter, grazing his face “I have on the matching panties too.”

“I—“ His voice catches and you jump back before Sunday can retreat. Giggling. Victorious, as you see him wipe an exasperated hand down his face, as if trying to control himself despite the way his glare gives him away. “Is everything you do meant to deliberately torment me in particular or are you naturally despicable?” His words sneer as he spits them at you.

Seems you’ve really gotten to him today. Oh well.

“Maybe if you weren’t so uptight this wouldn’t be so easy for me.” You pop out your hip with your rebuttal and Sunday almost trembles with rage at your little display of smugness.

But before you can toy with him anymore, he’s granted a miracle when the bell for the next class rings.

And you don’t give him any opportunity to keep going before you’re leaving with a quick call over your shoulder of “Gotta go Prez, wouldn’t wanna be late for class. My offer to see my panties still stands by the way.”

“You—“ Is all you can hear before it breaks into mumbles of “I am simply wasting my valuable time reprimanding you countless times only for you to ignore it.” And his wings curl themselves around his now incredibly flustered cheeks before he calls after you with a final, muttered “And no running in the halls— agh!”

You think he’s actually quite cute.

[summeryaesakuraa]

𝐁𝐎𝐁𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐏 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𖹭.ᐟ

synopsis: reader is a host for a youtube interview show where the premise is a fake date with idols in a boba tea shop. (inspired by chicken shop date)

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍 the opportunity to interview south korea’s most popular and attractive boyband, the saja boys!

a week before the interview, you did extensive research on the saturated boyband to avoid asking the same repetitive, and borderline shady, questions that most interviewers asked celebrities.

well, you tried to, anyway.

“what the hell…?” you rubbed your temple as you sat slouched and annoyed in front of your computer. the blue light not doing any favors for your tired, burning eyes.

surprisingly, any backgroud information about the saja boys’ past or even uprising is either vague or entirely nonexistent. it’s as if the boys didn’t even exist before their debut, like they just spawned out of thin air one day.

for three days, you pulled all-nighter after all-nighter trying to find reliable sources about each member’s past, only to find headcanons made by pride, shipping wars, and nasty rumors made up by anti-stans.

you let out a defeated groan.

at this point, i’m beginning to question if they’re industry plants…

you looked at your notebook on the side of your desk. what was supposed to be a page or two of good questions to ask the saja boys was instead filled with: where the fuck did ya’ll come from? are ya’ll aware you’re being shipped with each other? know anything about industry plants?, etc.

yup. a clear cry for help.

the only thing you really had going for you were questions about their music and lyricism, specifically on why all of their songs are about consumption.

there’ve been many theories by pride on why all of their songs involved consuming, that the lyrics could be hinting at something deeper. some fans even noted that if you just read the lyrics of each saja boy song without listening to the music, the tone changes from bubblegum to…ominous.

of course, there’s the other half of the pride that chalks it all up to the boys just being really into cunnilingus. so there’s that.

𖹭

meeting the saja boys for the first time was…an experience.

before you could even introduce yourself, mystery was in your face, barking at you like he was a stray dog whose tail you just stepped on. he got snatched back so fast by jinu, their leader.

“we’re so sorry!" he bent over 90 degrees in apology, forcing mystery to do the same. you could tell jinu had a vice grip on the back of mystery’s neck by the way his veins were protruding on his hand.

before you could recover from the shock, romance was then in your face, cooing at how pretty you were.

“never met a girl as pretty as you. what’s your name, angel?”

“i-"

once again, jinu snatched romance by the neck and gripped his head down in apology just like mystery before him.

“please excuse him!"

“ow! watch the hair!"

abby looked like he was about to act a fool, too, but froze when he caught sight of jinu side-eyeing him with a look that threatened a brutal murder.

𖹭

the interview itself was even more chaotic and it wasn’t entirely because of the saja boys.

your interviewing style wasn’t exactly conventional. celebrities are often treated like spectacles or descended deities by hosts’, but you ran your show by treating guests like old friends on a unserious date. in addition, you refused to invite or accept requests of celebs you didn’t like onto your show. you’ve even been cancelled by parasocial fans for deleting your interviews with celebs who were later exposed for being either bigots or criminals.

jinu was a gentlemen throughout the entire interview. during the bands introduction, he thanked you sincerely for having them on your show. he offered his full, undivided attention to you and praised you on how good your questions were. a skill you felt very prideful about.

you did notice something odd, however.

"as the composer and co-producer of the group, i'm curious about when your journey with music began? would you mind sharing, jinu?"

that's when you noticed it.

despite it being so subtle that you could miss it with a blink. you saw how his face twitched. how his eyes darkened as they glazed over for just a second. it may have been a trick of the light, but in that second, you swore you saw his eyes glow. the air of the room shifted, too.

it didn't help that the other boys suddenly fell quiet. it felt like you were being were being given a silent warning to not ask the wrong thing. but what was the wrong thing to ask?

you attempted to correct your mistake.

"i apologize if it's a sensitive topic, we'll cut this ou-"

"no." jinu snapped from his daze and swiftly switched back into his idol persona. "it's okay, i don't mind answering." he smiled, but it hardly reached his eyes.

the air in the room felt lighter again, though.

many pressing questions swirled in your mind, and your curiousty only grew when jinu's answer felt so vague and fabricated.

seriously, are these guys industry plants?

𖹭

romance was staring at you the entire time as if you were a painting in the louvre. you noticed that whenever you asked him question, he took a long sip of his milk tea while making prolonged eye contact. his aim was obviously to fluster you, so you decided to match his energy.

“you know, romance, out of all members, you’re the one i did the most research on?”

“oh?" he raised a brow, tilting his head on his palm. "you find me that interesting?"

“of course, it’s important to know things about my future husband.”

romance felt his cold heart take a screenshot. hosts' were usually flustered just by his presence alone, but none were ever so bold to flirt back. he turned his head to the side, covering his face with the back of his hand.

abby whistled. “damn, that was smooth."

𖹭

as usual during interviews, baby was polite and acting cute, but you noticed that there was an air of disinterest emitting from him. wanting to change that, you presented him with a twelve pack of the spiciest hot sauce in south korea and told him that if he could drink a whole boba tea version of the sauce in five minutes, he could keep the pack.

immediately, his demeanor switched from cute to daredevil.

you watched in equal horror and awe as he chugged the hellish boba down in a single minute. the boys cheered for him, minus jinu, who just looked done with everything.

afterwards, baby became engaged in the interview, even asking you questions about yourself and your show, all of which you happily answered.

𖹭

you don't know how it happened, but somehow, as you were interviewing the muscle of the group...you winded up sitting on abby's back as he did twenty sets of pushups while the rest of the boys were trying to break him as a challenge.

out all the boys, romance was oddly putting in the most effort to make abby fail.

if someone had told you that becoming a host would lead you to sitting on a handsome rich mans back, you would've laughed in their face. but, atlast, here you are doing just that.

"you know," abby grunted. "i've never held a girl like this before."

"are you saying i'm special?" you joked.

you shifted a bit when abby chuckled. you quickly adjusted yourself to avoid a nasty fall.

"don't worry, i won't drop you."

"good," you sat up straight. "this is the greatest moment of my whole career. i don't want it to be ruined."

you could've sworn you heard romance mutter something under his breath, but chose to ignore it.

as much fun as you were having though, you definitely felt anxiety building up.

should i keep this in the video? my sasaeng senses are tingling like crazy.

𖹭

you had a slight beef with mystery that you couldn’t shake off since your first interaction. when he was in the middle of answering your question, you felt the sudden urge to hiss at him for revenge...so you did. mystery, as well as the other boys, fell silent as he stared at you with his mouth agape.

“yea, how do you like it?" you smirked, starring him down with a challenging look in your eyes.

jinu side-eyed mystery with tight lips. “mystery, don-"

“GRRR!!!"

the last few minutes of the interview was you and mystery trying to assert dominance on the other with hisses, growls, barking, and evening roaring. this continued for awhile with most of it edited out of the video.

“uh, should we stop this.” abby cringed.

“nah, i wanna see who wins.” baby leaned forward on the table, drinking the last of his boba.

romance held a hand to his heart. “even when she’s growling, she’s angelic."

fuck my life. jinu facepalmed.

thank you for reading, ya'll ₍₍⚞(˶˃ ꒳ ˂˶)⚟⁾⁾ it's been so much fun FINALLY writing for these dorks !! it feels so good to be a part of a new fandom with rich content aaaa !!!

[summeryaesakuraa]

I've been reading the fanart. You have a natural talent for creating a more distinctive personality for the Saja Boys from the bits and pieces they gave us in the movie!

Ever since that fanart where the Saja sneaked into the reader's room, I couldn't stop imagining what they would be like sleeping alone with her, as if every day of the week except the weekends they will take turns sleeping with the reader or something like that.

And again, I love your writing. I hope you like the idea. Have a nice day!!!

Saja Boys x GN!Reader

a/n; anon thank you so much heheh!!! this one isn't too accurate to your idea, but i love it and i hope it's still okay!

summary; physical touch with the boys and why they wanna go to your bedroom :))) (touch starved. written separately but they all live in the same housing)

warnings; stalking (watching you sleep), body curious, touching w no permission, nothing sexual tho!

— 🍃 [Monday]

Here's the thing, guys. The boys don't actually need sleep. They're demons. Sleep isn't something their bodies need—instead it's something they want. They are still aware and can feel through touch, which is exactly why they'd prefer to sleep with you.

You're warm, so alive, and they don't know it yet.

Surprisingly enough, Jinu is the first one to knock on your door.

"Jinu?" you drawl, voice laced with sleep. He stands awkwardly by the doorway, patiently waiting for you to process what's happening. Glancing idly at your sleepwear and dimlit room.

You yawn, widening the door. "What's up? Need something?" You pause, raising a lazy accusing finger. "Wait. You're not here to suck my blood, are you—?!"

"What? No!" Jinu gasps, almost offended. You sigh out of relief anyway.

"...We're not interested in physical bodies. Anyway, uh, sorry for waking you up. I just need to see how our socials are going," he explains as he steps into your room. "You can power your computer and go back to sleep."

As soon as you heard the word 'social', you were already turning it on. "'kay, buddy. You sure you don't need help, though? I know I taught you a bit but I understand it can get confusing—"

"No, no," Jinu huffs, denial flooding his form. "I can do it."

"You remember how to turn it off?"

"Yes. Don't worry."

Then you fall asleep next to him, your body slightly pressing against his. His eyes slowly drift away from the glow of the computer screen to your sleeping form. He stares for a moment.

Soft, warm. It reminds him of the past on how he couldn't sleep with his own fam—

Jinu pulls the computer plug off and teleports away.

—💐 [Tuesday]

Baby made you piggyback him. A lot. It was sort of your fault.

You saw the Saja Boys taking turns carrying him—it was a pretty funny ordeal. Then you jokingly offered to piggyback him to see what the hype was about.

He accepted it all too eagerly. As soon as his full weight falls on you, you're genuinely surprised at how light he is. It's probably equivalent to a box full of volleyballs.

"You're lighter than I thought," you say, adjusting your arms behind his legs.

Baby suddenly lets his head rest on yours. "Why are you so..." Warm. He buries himself into your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

"Why am I so what?" you ask, turning your head, only achieving to tickle him more.

He doesn't let you go for the rest of the day.

And by extension, night.

You tried to complain at first. "Didn't we agree to—"

"Just this once, please?"

You folded.

He snuggles all comfortable within your arms, acting as the little spoon, greedily content in your warmth and breathing.

But then you wake up with his mouth on your skin. He wasn't biting, sucking, or anything. It was just.... there.

Still, though, you assumed the worst.

"I thought you said demons don't suck blood, Jinu!?!"

"We don't!!?!"

—🪷 [Wednesday]

Abby wanted you to touch his abs for some mysterious reason. Yapping about how "no one else will have this chance," or "you might not live long enough to feel it!" and "I actually haven't let anyone touch my artificial abs yet" — it was really weird, but you shrugged it off and agreed anyway.

Like hell yeah. Sure, why not?

So he unbuttons his shirt, all giddy, and watches as you reach for his skin.

You make contact with his abs. Caressing it gently, it feels normal in texture — but you suppose it's a little too cold. The fact didn't totally sound weird at the time.

Looking up, you flinch at Abby's expression. You thought he'd be smiling, like he was the whole time, but he looks so serious that it's actually concerning. He's not looking at you; his eyes were down and fixated on your hand.

You notice, pulling your hand away from him, and snapping your fingers. "You okay?"

He blinks. "Uh."

Later that night, Abby welcomes himself into your room.

He stares at you from the corner. From the center. From the edge of your bedframe. On your bed.

Sometimes, he'd gently let his hands roam over your exposed skin. Mostly your warm hands. And your warm face.

You wake up to find his face in front of you.

Screaming, you unintentionally kick him in the abs.

"Ow, my perfectly crafted abs!"

— 🪻 [Thursday]

Mystery almost lost it when you pat his head.

You did it voluntarily. It's a nice, comforting feeling as you pat his shoulder, his arm, and his cheek. He utterly melts under your casual touches without a single word.

He loves it. You leave him demanding for more. So, Mystery decides to linger around you like a guard dog. Who hopes to be spoiled, who wishes to be held.

But, then, night comes.

"You're not exactly allowed in my room," you say, only to pause when he straight up whimpers.

... You folded. With a sigh, you step away from the door and give him space to walk in.

He happily skips into your room, flopping face-first on your bed. You stare at him for a moment, thinking about how despite them not being human — they really love to rest.

You lie down, feeling Mystery move around under your blanket, closing your eyes when he finds himself comfortable against your chest.

Your chest rising and falling with every breath—Mystery simply can't help but feel envious.

— 🌺 [Friday]

Romance is confused.

There's a buzz between his band members — apparently, they visited your bedroom? Didn't they agree to avoid that specific place in this house?

He doesn't realize he's been staring blankly at nowhere. Reality hits him hard when something gentle touches his hair.

"Might wanna style your hair again, Rome," you chuckle, brushing his hair with your fingers. He shivers when your skin grazes his forehead. "You got the bed head. Though I guess you just snap your fingers and it'd be all okay."

You leave right after that, but Romance keeps staring at the last place he saw your figure, his fingers fidgeting with the hair you just touched.

Okay. He gets it now.

Next day, you woke up with him hovering over your head.

You suddenly grab his shoulders, push him back against your bed, breathing heavy from the shock. The bed sinks under both your weight.

Romance stares immensely up at you.

"You guys," you breath, "will be the death of me."

He smirks. "I can only imagine."

— krazy

[summeryaesakuraa]

Hi! I'm following your work on AO3 and it really makes my day when I see a new story. Love your writing <3

I’ve seen that you’re okay with requests and that you touched on heavier subjects too. If you’re comfortable with it, could you please write a story about demon boys (individually) finding out that our character is hurting themselves (either cutting or has fresh scars)?

I get it’s a morbid topic, but you write their reactions so well, I’d like to see how you’d create this angle.

Have a great day and keep rocking (or penning)!

Self harm

Pairings: Saja boys x Female Reader Warning: self harm, angst/comfort You hurt yourself, but you are not alone.

(Yeah I'm perfectly fine with heavier topics as well. I know some people need them and if just a little my story could help, it' already worth it! Love ya!)

Tags:@bypanana, @heartmew, @healmydesires, @lamogliedizayne, @gremlinartstudio, @chaoticfivesworld,@potato-vagina, @lillycore, @kittycatmuse, @osball, @kpopmultistans, @fanaticofmany, @queensnowlake-wof, @alastor-simp,@haydensjw

ABBY

He didn’t mean to see it.

You were just getting changed — your shirt halfway off, back turned, mumbling something about the hot weather — when Abby walked in without knocking like he always did.

At first, he was joking.

“Hey, you better not be starting without me—” Then his voice cut off.

Silence.

You froze.

Your shirt was still raised, exposing your ribs and the side of your stomach. Not enough to tell the full story — but enough.

Enough for him to see.

The thin, healing lines. The angry red ones still too fresh. The pain you didn’t talk about.

You didn’t turn around.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

His voice came a second later. But it was low. Hoarse.

“...What is that?”

You wanted to lie. Say it was a cat. Say it was from training. Say anything. But the silence said everything first.

He stepped forward. Slowly.

“Turn around.”

You couldn’t. You were already shaking.

“I said—” His voice broke. “Please.”

That did it.

You turned — eyes already glassy, chest tight, shame crawling up your spine. You expected yelling. Or worse — pity.

But Abby didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you.

Like he didn’t recognize what he was seeing.

Like he wanted to fight whatever had done that to you… and realizing it was you made it worse.

“You...” he swallowed. “You did this to yourself?”

You nodded, barely.

He ran a hand down his face like he couldn’t figure out where to put all the rage burning behind his ribs. Not at you. Never at you.

At the world. At whatever made you feel like pain was your only outlet. At himself — for not seeing it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered, voice tight.

“I didn’t want you to think I was weak,” you choked.

That broke him.

He stepped forward and just held you.

Big, strong arms wrapping around your body so tight it felt like the pieces of you might finally stop falling apart. He didn’t say anything at first. He just pressed his face into your shoulder, breathed you in, and let the silence carry his answer.

When he finally spoke again, his voice cracked.

“You’re not weak. You’re fucking brave for even waking up today.”

You let out a broken sob.

His hands moved gently — over your back, your arms, every safe part of you he could reach — like he was trying to rewrite every scar with the feeling of being held instead of hurt.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he murmured. “I want you. Not the version of you that’s perfect. Not the happy mask. You. The hurting, stubborn, real you. I want all of it.”

You shook in his arms, and he just held you tighter.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “I’ll sit with you in the dark for as long as it takes. But you gotta promise me something.”

You looked up, red-eyed, silent.

He cupped your face, golden eyes fierce. “Next time it gets that bad... tell me. I’ll come running. I don’t care what time it is, or where you are. You call, I show up. Always.”

And you believed him.

Because Abby didn’t make soft promises.

He made vows.

And from that day forward, every time your hands started to shake, or the thoughts got too loud, you remembered one thing:

You weren’t alone.

Not anymore.

BABY

You’d been careful.

Long sleeves. Quick showers. Lights off during intimacy. Always laughing when he joked, always distracting him with your hands on his chest or your lips on his neck whenever he started to look too close.

But tonight, it slipped.

You were changing in the bathroom, half-asleep, too tired to keep up the routine. And when you stepped out—shirt clinging to your side in a way you didn’t expect—he saw them.

The fresh, red lines across your skin.

You didn’t even notice him noticing. Not until his voice broke through the air, quieter than you’d ever heard it:

“...What’s that on your hip?”

Your body stiffened.

You glanced down. The hem had ridden up—just enough.

You tried to play it off. “It’s nothing.”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t yell. Didn’t lecture.

Just stood there, completely still, like if he moved too fast, he’d scare you away.

“You don’t gotta lie to me, doll.”

You looked away. “I wasn’t going to tell you. It’s just… a thing I do sometimes. It’s not—don’t make it a big deal.”

The silence was unbearable.

Then you heard it.

His breath—shaky. Shallow. Not angry, not even hurt. Just... wrecked.

When you finally looked at him, his golden eyes weren’t glowing like usual. They were dim, like something behind them had cracked a little.

“You been hurting like that and thought I wouldn’t care?” he whispered.

You opened your mouth, but he was already walking toward you—slow, careful, like you were made of glass.

And when he reached you?

He didn’t ask for permission.

He just pulled you in.

Hard. Arms wrapped around you like a shield. One hand cradling the back of your head. The other curling around your back protectively—carefully avoiding the spot he saw.

You didn’t realize how tight you were holding everything in until you broke.

And when you cried, you cried into his chest. Into the place where his heart thundered. He held you through every trembling sob, pressing kisses into your hair, whispering your name like a prayer.

“I’m not mad,” he said quietly. “Not even a little. I just—fuck, doll. You don’t gotta deal with this alone.”

You hiccupped. “I don’t know how to stop. It’s the only thing that quiets my head sometimes.”

He nodded slowly. Still holding you. Still steady.

“Then let me help quiet it,” he whispered. “You don’t have to go through the ugly shit by yourself. I’ll sit in it with you. I’ll stay through it. All of it. Every dark part.”

You clung to him like a lifeline.

Because that’s what he was.

A loud-mouthed demon who could tame your chaos not with fire, but with patience. With love. With arms strong enough to catch every broken piece of you without flinching.

“I’m gonna help you get through this,” he whispered. “Not fix you. Not push. Just... stay. You get that? I’m not going anywhere.”

And in that moment, with his heartbeat in your ear and the weight of him around you—

You believed him.

ROMANCE

You were careful. Always careful.

Long sleeves in summer. Dim lights when changing. Soft deflections when he asked if you were okay.

Romance noticed your silences, of course—he was too tuned in to you not to. But he never pushed. He waited. Patient and gentle in a way that wasn’t weakness—just devotion.

But one night, you forgot to hide it.

You were curled up on his bed in one of his oversized shirts, legs drawn up, knees exposed. You thought he was still in the kitchen, thought you had a minute before the show started, thought the shadows covered more than they did.

And then—

“Angel?”

You startled. He was standing in the doorway, holding two mugs of tea.

His eyes were on your legs.

Not just looking. Frozen.

You followed his gaze.

And your breath caught.

A few faded lines. A few fresh. All quietly screaming what you’d worked so hard to hide.

You yanked the fabric down with shaking hands, voice stammering out, “It’s not— I mean, it’s fine, I’m fine—”

But he was already moving.

Not fast. Not panicked.

Just… deliberate.

He set the mugs down on the nightstand, knelt in front of the bed, and reached for your hand—slow, gentle, waiting for you to pull away.

You didn’t.

Romance swallowed hard. His demon form was half showing—glowing lilac marks pulsing faintly on his neck and forearms. You could feel his energy shift, like his heart was trying to beat too much at once.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, voice low—barely holding together.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you whispered.

“Like what?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing, golden eyes glassy. “Like someone hurting? Someone who’s overwhelmed? That doesn’t make you broken, angel. That just makes you human.”

You looked away, ashamed. “It’s ugly.”

“No.” His voice was firmer now, hands cupping your face. “What’s ugly is this world that made you feel like pain is something you have to carry alone.”

You trembled.

He pressed his forehead to yours, lips barely brushing your skin.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” he whispered. “Not ever. I don’t care how messy it gets. I just want you here. With me. Breathing. Healing. Let me help carry it.”

You cracked. The tears came fast, silent, like you were afraid to even cry properly.

But Romance held you.

Pulled you into his arms like you were something precious and fragile, and he’d fight the whole world if it meant keeping you safe.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he murmured, kissing your hair. “Just stay. Let me love you exactly as you are.”

You clung to him, and for the first time in days—maybe weeks—you felt something.

Warmth. Steadiness. Hope.

And maybe that was enough to start.

MYSTERY

It was late when he noticed.

You’d been pulling away for days, maybe longer. He didn’t push — not at first. Mystery had always been the one who gave you space, who let you come to him. But tonight, there was something… different.

You had your sleeves rolled down, even though the apartment was warm. You flinched when he reached for your hand. You laughed at something he said — but your eyes never followed.

He knew masks. He’d worn them for years. He could spot one from across a battlefield.

But when you went to grab something from the cabinet and your sleeve slipped up — just a bit — he saw it.

Red. Fresh. Sharp.

You froze when you realized.

So did he.

For a second, the world just… stopped.

Mystery didn’t speak. His golden eyes flicked up from your arm to your face — not angry. Not judgmental. But like someone who’d just been stabbed in the chest without warning.

You opened your mouth to say something — maybe to lie, maybe to explain.

But he beat you to it.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

You looked away. Shame burned hot at the back of your throat. You wanted to disappear, to climb out of your skin, to hide from his gaze.

But then he stepped forward.

And slowly — so slowly — he reached for your hand. He didn’t grab. He didn’t force.

He just held it in his palm, his demon-clawed fingers curled gentle and warm.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting like this?” he asked.

Your voice cracked. “I didn’t want you to think I was broken.”

“Broken?” he echoed, almost like he couldn’t believe you said that. He let out a breath, shaky and raw. “I think you're brave for waking up today. For being here. For fighting through it.”

You shook your head, blinking fast. “It doesn’t feel brave. It feels like... I’m losing.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You're not losing,” he said. “You're surviving. And I swear to you—no matter how dark it gets, I'm not leaving.”

You whispered, “Even if I’m a mess?”

He kissed the side of your head.

“Especially then.”

And then he sat on the floor with you. No more words. Just his arms around you. One hand carefully resting over your wrist, not to stop you, not to shame you—but to say I see you. I’m here. I’m not afraid of your pain.

JINU

It happened on a quiet night.

The apartment was dim, the kind of low glow you always preferred — warm, safe. Jinu sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a book, his demon form half-faded. Stripes faint. Claws retracted. Golden eyes soft, like they only ever got when it was just you.

You were changing in the other room. Just pulling on a sleep shirt. Nothing dramatic. Nothing meant to be seen.

But you’d been careless — or tired — or just… worn too thin to cover up properly.

When you stepped out, your sleeves slid up.

And he saw.

Fresh scars.

Not old, not faint. Not distant shadows of a bad memory.

New. Red. Real.

You didn’t notice right away. You were rambling about what movie to watch — something soft, something safe. You always wanted soft lately.

But Jinu had gone still.

The kind of still that was dangerous in other contexts. The kind of still that came right before a fight — but now? He was holding it in like it hurt to breathe.

“...Jinu?”

You turned, finally noticing the way he was staring — not at your face. At your arms.

You followed his gaze.

And the moment your eyes landed on your own skin — panic.

You yanked your sleeves down, stepping back.

“I—It’s not—It’s fine, I just—”

He stood up.

You backed up instinctively, voice shaking. “Please don’t look at me like that.”

But he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t disgusted. He looked wrecked.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was quiet, rough. Like he was forcing it through a throat tight with something too human to name.

“Because it’s ugly,” you whispered. “Because you’d look at me different. Like I’m broken.”

He took a step forward. Then another. Until he was close enough to reach for your wrist — and didn’t.

He just held his hand out.

Letting you choose.

You hesitated. Then, slowly, you placed your trembling hand in his.

He lifted it. Softly.

And then he sank to his knees.

Like he didn’t trust himself to stand.

His fingers hovered over your wrist, over the band of skin you tried so hard to hide.

And then — gently, reverently — he pressed his lips there.

Not like he was kissing a wound.

Like he was promising something.

I see you. I still want you. You’re not broken to me.

“I don’t care what it looks like,” he said against your skin. “I care that it’s hurting you.”

You tried to pull away — shame burning hot behind your eyes — but he only tightened his grip just enough to stop you.

“I’m not mad. I’m not scared of this. But you don’t get to fight it alone. Not while I’m here.”

You broke.

The tears came hot and fast, and suddenly you were sinking to the floor with him, into his arms, burying your face in his neck while he held you like he was trying to hold the pieces of you together.

“I’m trying,” you whispered. “I just don’t know how to stop.”

“That’s okay,” he whispered back. “You don’t need to have the answer tonight. Just… stay with me. Let me help you carry it.”

And he meant it.

Every word.

He didn’t try to fix you.

He just stayed.

All night, his arms around you, his demon glow a soft pulse under his skin — like a lighthouse.

Like something that says:

You're not alone anymore. And I’m not letting go.

[summeryaesakuraa]

romance saja

++

[summeryaesakuraa]

[summeryaesakuraa]

jinu’s go to friendship invitation tactic aka how the saja boys came tgt? 😂

Free petting if you join my boyband! -Jinu

[summeryaesakuraa]

"You're Beautiful."

Reader × True Demon Forms Saja Boys

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Depictions Of Body Horror

So guess who fucking caved AHDKAHSKHA

If no one's gonna feed me, Ig I'll do it myself!!!

Mind the 'graphic depictions of body horror warning'- these men are freaks! genuine monsters!!! I hope they unnerve u somehow cause if they did that means I got my Vision across!!!

Now go kiss your guys they really need the reassurance actually

WC: ~2K

Abby didn't mean to transform. The two of you were walking home from a late-night date hand-in-hand, and then a robber suddenly jumped out from the shadows, armed with a knife. They knicked your arm with the tip of their blade, and Abby was so caught off guard and enraged at the sight of you being hurt that it just… happened.

Abby's true form was a monstrous giant. The transformation left his clothes in tatters, a hulking beast marred with angry red skin and leathery flesh taking the place of the man you loved.

Thick horns curled out the top of his head. Large, weighty tusks left no room in his mouth, leaving drool to drip and pour down onto the mangled corpse of the fool stupid enough to try to attack you as he hovered over it. His breaths sounded so wet and raggedy, as if his ribcage strained to lift the pounds of muscle it was trapped beneath.

He didn't want to turn around to see you. To see the look on your face.

But he was glad when he did.

Abby expected to see disgust or horror in your eyes- he was prepared for it- but instead all that appeared was you looking awe-filled as you slowly approached him. You put a hand on his arm, caressing the thick, leathery flesh as if it were cherubic. Something to be loved and cherished, not feared.

“...You're beautiful.”

The man took a few moments to respond, his voice coming out in a wobbly, garbled mess of low tones. It sounded like his vocal chords were cannibalizing each other.

“You don't have to do that. Don't lie. I know what I look like.”

You moved even closer, wiggling until you got past his thick arms and stood directly in front of him, getting up on your tiptoes to gently hold his disfigured face between your hands. You gazed up at him reverently.

“I'm not.”

Abby's sunken-in eyes looked down at you, and he wondered how he ever ended up so lucky to have met you in his afterlife. He didn't deserve you, and he doesn't think he ever will.

“...I love you.”

You closed your eyes, putting your forehead against the chest of the beast in front of you, having complete faith that he would never turn his claws, or teeth, or strength against you.

And you are right. He never would.

Abby's thick, burly hand curled around your waist, the size of it completely enveloping your lower back. You were unphased.

“I love you, too.”

Discovering Mystery's true form wasn't an accident. You asked to see it. It was an act of trust.

Of course, he was hesitant. Despite Mystery's aloof facade, he was terrified to lose the things he held dear. He was confident that you would flee once you saw the monster hidden behind the curtain. You were ready to see him, but he wasn't ready to see you.

But, after countless assurances and promises that nothing would change, he finally decided to show you. 

Mystery's true form was lanky- skinny to an unhealthy degree. A pale, sickly purple was the shade of his skin. He had limbs so thin it appeared that his body was composed of sticks and sinew melted together, tied up in knots by loose flesh. He had tusks that hung from thin lips- pointy and dangerous. His fingers were so spindly and sharp they were more akin to tiny knives attached to his bones than actual phalanges.

He hunched over, ashamed of his appearance. He kept his signature hair over his eyes, still too afraid to let you see just how all his emotions could be told through them.

Mystery only looked at you whenever you softly called his name. You took slow, slow steps- taking one of his long, lengthy hands into your own. Just one finger was practically the length of your forearm. He could snatch you up in an instant and tear you in half even faster.

But you didn't even think that to be a possibility.

Instead, you simply held one of his fingers, your hands being child-like compared to his own.

“You look reverent."

Mystery was already the silent type, but he was truly shocked silent at that moment. His sharp jaw trembled, the cryptid pulling you closer until you were up against the wiry, boney space that was his stomach. He held you there, body once more hunched in an attempt to bury his head against your hair.

There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn't formulate them. Not yet. He didn't know how to say just how much you loved you.

So, he simply stayed. He let you take in every inch of him, letting go of his fear and submitting to being an open book, never once feeling unloved when you drank him in.

He loved you. Deeply, religiously, unconditionally.

One day, he'll figure out how to articulate just how much this moment meant to him as much as it meant to you.

One day.

Romance only turned to his true form because he thought he was alone.

Curled up on the floor of your shared bedroom, he looked a mess. His flesh was pale, almost translucent. His clothes seemed to melt into his  body- a once elegant form devolving into something akin to a disgusting paint splatter. Black fluid poured all over the ground, the inky substance oozing from every orifice. His nose, his mouth, his ears… even his eyes.

Romance opened his hollow sockets to see you standing in the doorway. Instantly, he thought it was all over. Over for him, over for what the two of you were together.

Or maybe, you were about to start screaming in horror instead, not being able to tell who the mangled monster in front of you even was.

But that's not what occurred. None of it.

The man felt his heart flutter as you slowly approached him, kneeling down. You didn't grab him- you simply held out your hand, inviting him to take it he wanted to.

“Rommy? Are you okay? You look like you're crying…”

Romance was almost too stunned to say anything. His voice came out a warble- reminiscent of the reverberation a thunder-sheet makes when shaken. But instead of something silly, the sound was much more unnerving. The cry of wind battering against old windowsills.

“...You aren't disgusted with this? With me?”

The monster felt his heart soar as you simply moved closer. Your hand cupped his cheek, uncaring as the black, syrupy liquid ran down your fingers and dripped down your wrist, staining the fabric of your sleeve.

“No? Why would I be? I love you.”

Much to your chagrin, the black streaks simply multiplied, now being encouraged to fall as Romance began sobbing in earnest, his head coming to rest against your shoulder. Your clothes were stained an inky-black as he shook, clutching onto you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

And really, who's to say you weren't?

Of course Romance loves… well, loving things. Anyone he can get his hands on, he held onto them for as long as he could, tighter and tighter until they eventually slipped from his grasp.

But he didn't want to hold on to you like that- like you were something to be owned. You were an angel. You were his angel. You needed to be cradled and worshipped in his hands, to be cherished. You were a beautiful bird willingly cupped between his deadly claws that is free to take flight whenever it wishes.

But for as long as it stay in his unworthy hands, Romance will worship it and care for his dove as gently as he can.

Baby doesn't understand how to handle his emotions. Especially not the emotions he feels towards you.

He doesn't understand how you make him feel so… safe. So vulnerable- he hasn't felt that way around anybody for so long. Centuries long.

It terrified him.

Eventually, the instability led to him lashing out, and it broke into a fight. A push-and-pull of Baby desperately trying to push you away, and your resolve to stand your ground only driving him wilder.

Something you said finally broke the camels back, sending him over the edge as he transformed into his true self.

To say Baby regretted it would be the understatement of the century. The momentary shudder of fear in your eyes had him launching away from you, stepping back like you were the one who scared him. He fell on his ass, clutching his sharp yet stubby hands to his chest.

Baby especially hated himself like this. Shorter, stubbier- shrunk down to the size of a foul imp. His skin was an ugly burnt orange; small, chubby horns that weighed enough to drag his head down sprouted from the top of his skull, trapping his chin to his chest. His feet were cloven hooves. He felt like a goddamn pig.

He wanted to yell at you to go away, to just leave him alone.

No words came out.

You dropped to your knees, gentle hands reaching out to press against his temples. Baby squeezed his eyes shut, praying that this would finally be enough. For you to go away, to leave him behind. To find someone different. Someone better.

But of course it wasn't.

You reached down, placing one hand on his knee, voice soft. Far softer than he deserved.

“You don't have to do this, Baby. I'm not going anywhere. I promise.”

Baby's whole body trembled. The frightened animal fought back the urge to wail and cry and scream as you did the worst thing possible. You simply stayed, thumbing at his cheeks and rubbing his knee.

What is wrong with you. Why would you stay. Why would you stay for him of all people?!

Not knowing what else to do in the moment, Baby hesitantly relaxed, leaning into your touch much like a scared stray experiencing its first ever kind hand would do.

The future can be figured out whenever it's gotten to. Right now, Baby has to apologize and make up for what he's done. He called out, the sound of his voice tinny and rubbery. It hurt to hear.

“...I'm sorry.”

You only smiled, a sight that made Baby's heart squeeze in pain.

“I forgive you.”

Jinu was… a unique case.

Instead of a hulking physique, spindly frame, or impish form, what took over his being was almost mannequin-esc. His face was a blank, emotionless mask. It somewhat reminded you of a Geisha. A lost spirit, donned in white, wandering… searching through eternity for a life now long-gone.

By the time you found Jinu, any form of feeling had emptied from his stiff body. He looked like half a person, ghostly white spanning over his thin flesh. His eyes were dark black sockets, endless voids that held nothing within.

You likely wouldn't have recognized him if his head did not move to see you- to acknowledge your existence. Jinu didn't say anything- you don't know if he could, like this- but his hand twitched almost imperceptibly at his side. Maybe it was begging you to come closer? Or perhaps, a plea to at least hide your eyes? Shield yourself from the sight before you so you didn't have to see him like this?

Regardless, you didn't hesitate to walk up to him, immediately wrapping your arms around his chest and squeezing him into a bone-crushing hug. No words were said. Nothing needed to be said.

Besides, there wasn't much you could say in the moment to comfort him. You know his story. All you could do was cling onto him and hope.

Pain panged through Jinu's whole body. Him appearing emotionless was probably as much of a blessing as it was a curse in that moment. He didn't want you to see him break down, and this circumstance prevented just that.

You stayed for as long as it took, holding Jinu tight until his body slowly returned to normal. A strong, trembling pair of pale arms wrapped around your waist in return. The two of you rocked together, holding each other close until you both sank to the floor, quietly crying as you murmured words of love, devotion, and promises into each other's ears.

Jinu especially meant every word he said. He loves you. He will never leave you. He will never leave someone he loves as strongly as this.

Never again.

[summeryaesakuraa]

[summeryaesakuraa]

Saja Boys Art

[summeryaesakuraa]

Strike a pose Vogue

[summeryaesakuraa]

baby saja

[summeryaesakuraa]

not a hear me out but a hold me back pt 2

[summeryaesakuraa]

[summeryaesakuraa]

Saja Boys HD Art Icons

[summeryaesakuraa]

saja boys + groups shots pt 2