hey, it's really been awhile since you've posted anything and i hope you're ok. i really miss your writing, but more importantly, i know winter was hard for you and i really hope you're doing ok. i dont want to rush you to come back if that'd be stressful for you, but it would be nice to know you haven't died or something, and you should know that your followers care about you ❤️
-🦇
hiii!❤️
I'm sorry for making you worry, I'm much better now and I'll be posting more❤️ I'm extremely moved by the fact that you guys are still here🥹
hii! i really love your stories and i adore how you write the saja boys so i was thinking maybe if you can make one like reader is jinu’s sister and whats the dynamics between all of them (it can be romantic dynamics for the 4 other boys too!)
YOU'RE JINU'S SISTER
hii! promise I'll be more active now!🖤
JINU❤️
Being Jinu’s sister meant living in the quiet safety of someone who had always taken the role of protector seriously.
From the outside, he appeared composed and unwavering, but with you, that stoic exterior softened into something deeply tender.
Jinu had always felt responsible for you. Whether it was ensuring you had eaten, walking on the side of the street closest to traffic, or silently placing a warm drink in your hands during colder evenings, his care manifested in subtle but meaningful gestures.
He never smothered you, yet his presence was constant—steady and reassuring.
When the other Saja Boys first met you, Jinu’s protectiveness became even more evident. He observed every interaction carefully, because he wanted to ensure that you were surrounded by people who valued you as much as he did.
Despite his vigilance, Jinu trusted his friends. He knew their hearts, and more importantly, he trusted your judgment. Still, that didn’t stop him from offering the occasional warning.
“If any of you make her uncomfortable,” he once said, his gaze sweeping over the group, “you’ll answer to me.”
The statement was delivered with such quiet certainty that it simply felt like a fact.
Yet, when he noticed the way you laughed more freely around them, especially when your eyes lingered on one of the boys, his stern demeanor softened.
Jinu wanted you to be happy, even if that meant stepping back from his protective role.
In quieter moments, he would confide in you, expressing pride in the person you had become. Sitting together with cups of tea, he might gently say, “You don’t need me as much anymore, and that’s a good thing.”
But the warmth in his eyes always added an unspoken promise: I’ll still be here whenever you do.
ABBY💚
Abby’s dynamic with you was immediate and vibrant. From the moment you were introduced, he treated you like family, effortlessly weaving laughter and warmth into every interaction.
His outgoing personality created a space where you felt comfortable being yourself, free from the expectations that sometimes accompanied being Jinu’s sister.
He delighted in making you laugh, often exaggerating stories or engaging in playful banter. Whether it was spontaneous karaoke sessions or impromptu outings for late-night desserts, Abby ensured that life around him was never dull.
Yet beneath his humor lay a deeply caring nature. Abby was incredibly perceptive when it came to your emotions, often noticing when you felt overwhelmed or uncertain. In those moments, his playful demeanor would soften, replaced by genuine concern.
“Hey,” he would say gently, nudging your shoulder, “you don’t have to carry everything alone. I've got you.”
When Abby’s affection began to take on a romantic tone, it was expressed through small but meaningful (to him) gestures—saving you the last slice of cake, offering his jacket when you were cold, or proudly introducing you as someone incredibly important to him.
Jinu initially watched Abby with a hint of skepticism, wary of his nature. However, it didn’t take long for him to recognize the sincerity behind Abby’s actions. Seeing the way Abby prioritized your happiness and comfort reassured him.
Their interactions often carried a humorous edge, with Abby playfully attempting to win Jinu’s approval.
“I promise to return her in perfect condition,” he once joked, earning a rare amused huff from Jinu.
MYSTERY💜
Mystery’s connection with you developed gradually, built on shared silences and mutual understanding.
Unlike the other guys in your life, he never tried to impress you or fill the space with unnecessary words. Instead, he offered a calm presence that felt both grounding and comforting.
From the very beginning, he treated you not merely as Jinu’s sister but as an individual worthy of his attention and respect. He listened intently whenever you spoke, remembering even the smallest details—your favorite books, the way you preferred your tea, or the subtle changes in your mood.
Jinu noticed this attentiveness almost immediately. Rather than reacting with suspicion, he observed quietly, recognizing the sincerity in Mystery’s actions.
There was an unspoken acknowledgment between them: Mystery understood the responsibility of caring for someone so precious to Jinu.
As your relationship with Mystery deepened, it became clear that his affection was gentle yet profound. He would often seek you out during gatherings, standing beside you in comfortable silence or offering a soft smile that spoke volumes.
One evening, while the group was gathered in the living room, Mystery handed you a small, thoughtfully chosen book.
“You mentioned wanting to read this,” he said simply.
Mystery’s romantic interest unfolded slowly, rooted in trust and emotional intimacy. He never rushed you, allowing the connection to develop naturally.
When he eventually asked if you would like to spend time together—just the two of you—his voice was calm but tinged with vulnerability.
Jinu’s response to your growing bond was one of cautious acceptance. After a long moment of contemplation, he simply told Mystery to take care of you.
ROMANCE🩷
Romance approached you with a natural grace that made every interaction feel meaningful.
From the start, he treated you with a level of attentiveness that bordered on poetic, ensuring that you always felt valued and cherished.
He had a knack for creating beautiful moments out of ordinary situations—bringing you flowers simply because they reminded him of you, or inviting you on quiet walks where conversations flowed effortlessly.
His affection was expressed through both words and actions, each gesture imbued with sincerity.
Jinu observed Romance with thoughtful consideration. While he was aware of Romance’s inherently affectionate nature, he also recognized the depth of his emotions. What reassured him most was the respect Romance consistently showed toward both you and your relationship with him.
When Romance eventually expressed his feelings for you, it was done with heartfelt sincerity. Seeking Jinu’s blessing beforehand, he stated, “I care for her deeply and would never take her trust for granted.”
This only strengthened the bond between the two men, allowing Jinu to feel confident in Romance’s intentions.
Your relationship with Romance blossomed into something tender and supportive. He made you feel not only loved but truly understood, creating a relationship grounded in trust and affection.
BABY💙
Baby’s reaction to meeting you was, unsurprisingly, dramatic.
“So this is the better sibling,” he remarked, with a mischievous grin. “I was starting to think Jinu made you up to sound more mysterious!”
You quickly realized that Baby’s teasing was less about provocation and more about affection. He delighted in poking fun at Jinu, often exaggerating stories from their past to your amusement.
“Did he ever tell you about the time he tried to give a motivational speech and accidentally intimidated everyone into silence? I actually wanted to laugh so bad!” Baby would say, earning a long-suffering sigh from Jinu.
Despite his playful antics, Baby was fiercely protective of you. He made it clear that anyone who hurt you would have to deal with him. His loyalty was unwavering, hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and humor.
When his feelings for you began to deepen, they were expressed through subtle shifts in behavior. The teasing softened, replaced by moments of genuine vulnerability.
He would linger a little longer during conversations, ensure you got home safely, or quietly check in when you seemed upset.
Jinu’s response to Baby’s interest was a mixture of exasperation and reluctant amusement. Their exchanges often became a source of entertainment for the rest of the group.
However, Jinu understood that, despite his chaotic tendencies, Baby possessed a good heart and would never intentionally cause you harm.
Ultimately, Baby’s dynamic with you was one of laughter, warmth, and unexpected tenderness—a relationship that balanced playful mischief with genuine devotion.
This is my first ever request, so feeling a little awkward and sorry if I bother you. But is it okay to request some burnout comfort? Like, the reader is experiencing some severe burnout and is crying and the Saja Boys comfort them and help them feel not alone.
These past few weeks have been very rough and your writing really helps me keep going and I adore your work. It's okay if your busy and can't.
BURNOUT COMFORT
I'm extremely sorry to the person who requested this. It took me awfully long because I lost this request in my inbox.
I HOPE YOU'RE STILL THERE TO READ IT AND THAT YOU'LL ENJOY IT!🩵
JINU❤️
You don’t even realize you’re crying at first.
You’re just tired. Bone-deep tired. The kind that doesn’t go away with sleep. The kind that sits behind your ribs and makes breathing feel heavier than it should.
You’ve been pushing. And pushing. And pushing. And then one small thing goes wrong, something insignificant, and suddenly you can’t stop the tears.
Jinu finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, hands covering your face, shoulders shaking. He doesn’t rush. He kneels in front of you first.
“Talk to me,” he says softly.
You shake your head. You can’t. If you try, it’ll all spill out messy and incoherent and you already feel like too much.
“I’m just tired,” you whisper. He studies you carefully.
“No,” he says gently. “You’re burned out.”
That word breaks something. Because yes, that’s it. You nod helplessly and the tears come harder.
“I can’t keep up,” you choke. “I’m trying so hard and it’s never enough. I’m so tired of trying.”
Jinu moves without hesitation now. He pulls your hands away from your face and presses his forehead to yours.
“You don’t have to keep up,” he says quietly. “Not right now.”
You shake your head. “But I have responsibilities—”
“And you're one of mine,” he interrupts softly. “And I’m telling you to rest.”
His hands slide to your waist and he lifts you gently, sitting you on his lap like you weigh nothing.
“You have been strong for too long without pause,” he murmurs. “Strength without rest becomes damage.”
Your breathing stutters. “I feel useless,” you whisper.
He pulls back just enough to look at you. “You are not a machine,” he says firmly. “You're allowed to reach your limit.”
He holds you until your breathing evens out. Not fixing. Not solving. Just being steady.
“You are not alone in this,” he says into your hair. “If you're tired, I will carry what I can.”
And for the first time in weeks, your chest doesn’t feel like it’s collapsing inward.
MYSTERY💜
Mystery notices long before you do.
The way you stare at nothing. The way you flinch when your phone buzzes. The way you laugh but it doesn’t reach your eyes.
He doesn’t confront you immediately. He waits.
Then one night, you break. It’s quiet. You’re in the kitchen. You drop a glass. And you just stand there.
Then the tears start, silent, overwhelming. Mystery steps in instantly. He doesn’t ask questions. He wraps his arms around you from behind and holds you tight against his chest. You collapse into him like your strings were cut.
“I can’t do it anymore,” you whisper. “I’m so tired of everything.”
He rests his chin on your shoulder. “I know.”
You blink. “You know?”
“I’ve seen it building.”
That makes you cry harder. Because you thought you were hiding it well.
“You don’t have to hide exhaustion from me,” he murmurs. “You’re allowed to fall apart here.”
Your hands clutch his shirt. “I feel like I’m failing at everything.”
Mystery turns you gently to face him.
“Burnout lies,” he says calmly. “It tells you you’re incompetent when you’re just depleted.”
He wipes your tears with careful thumbs. “You are not weak. You are overwhelmed.”
He guides you to the couch and sits with you tucked into his chest.
“Rest,” he murmurs. “The world can wait a few hours.”
You shake your head. “It can’t.”
“It can,” he says softly. “And if it can’t then it isn’t worth you.”
He stays awake long after you fall asleep against him, guarding your rest like it’s sacred.
ABBY💚
Abby knows something’s wrong when you stop responding to his jokes. That’s when he gets serious.
He finds you crying in the bathroom, quiet, shoulders shaking.
“…Oh,” he says softly.
You try to wipe your face quickly. “I’m fine.”
He kneels in front of you.
“Okay,” he says gently. “But you’re crying. So maybe you’re not.”
You laugh weakly through tears. “I’m just tired.”
Abby’s expression shifts. “No. That’s the ‘I haven’t been okay for a while’ kind of tired.”
That hits too close. You cover your face again.
“I’m failing,” you whisper. “I can’t keep up. I’m not good enough...”
Abby pulls your hands down firmly. “Hey. No.”
He presses his forehead to yours. “You are allowed to be tired. You are allowed to be overwhelmed. That doesn’t make you a failure.”
His voice cracks slightly. “You think I don’t see how hard you try?”
You blink at him.
“I see it. Every day.” He hugs you tightly. “You don’t have to be impressive. You just have to exist... That's definitely enough!”
You sob into his hoodie and he rubs your back in wide, steady circles.
“You’re not alone,” he whispers. “And I’m not going anywhere... I'm like a glue... I'll stick to you forever!”
ROMANCE🩷
Romance doesn’t let you minimize it.
When he sees you crying, truly crying, he doesn’t brush it aside. He kneels in front of you and takes your hands carefully.
“What has been weighing on you?” he asks softly.
You hesitate. Then everything spills out. The exhaustion, the pressure, the constant feeling of being behind.
“I don’t feel like myself anymore,” you whisper.
Romance’s eyes soften painfully. “Burnout steals joy first,” he says quietly. “It makes the world look gray.”
You nod, tears falling freely now. “I don’t know how to fix it.”
“You don’t fix it,” he murmurs. “You recover from it.”
He pulls you into his chest and begins gently stroking your hair. “You are not meant to live in survival mode.”
Your breathing slowly evens out.
“I’m proud of you,” he says.
“For what?” you whisper.
“For enduring as long as you have.”
And something about that makes the shame loosen its grip.
BABY🩵
Baby finds you sitting on the floor, back against the bed, crying silently.
He blinks. “…Well. That’s not ideal.”
You glare weakly. “Go away.”
He crosses his arms and pouts. “No!”
You try to wipe your tears. “I’m fine.”
He crouches down. “You look like a raccoon that lost a fight.”
You huff a broken laugh. Mission accomplished.
Then he gets closer. “What happened?”
You shrug helplessly. “I’m exhausted. I can’t keep up. I feel useless.”
He squints at you. “Who told you that?”
“No one.”
“Wrong! Your brain definitely did! You don't need it! IT'S USELESS IF IT TELLS YOU THAT! WE NEED TO GET YOU A NEW BRAIN!”
You blink. He sighs dramatically and sits beside you. “Listen. Burnout just makes you stupid.”
You gasp offended.
“In the nicest way possible,” he clarifies quickly. “It warps your perspective.”
He bumps his shoulder against yours. “You’re not useless. You’re just super fried...”
You sniff. “I don’t know how to stop being fried.”
“You don’t,” he says simply. “You crash. And I sit here and make sure you don’t spiral! And then you throw away your old brain cause it's fried! And you get a new one! SIMPLE AS THAT!”
He throws a blanket over your head, then jumps onto you. “Congratulations! You are now a burrito!!”
You laugh despite yourself. He softens immediately.
“You don’t have to impress me or anyone else,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to earn being here.”
Then, softer: “You’re allowed to fall apart. I’ll guard the pieces, I promise.”
And he stays. Not fixing, not judging. Just present.
Maybe it’s been requested already, but I was thinking about how it would be to have a road trip with the Saja boys and how each one would be on the trip. Would one of them refuse to let reader drive? Another take equal turns? Maybe one that sleeps most of the way? Or even insists on stopping often for snacks and drinks and subsequent breaks. I think it could be fun lol. Whatever you think though, I love the way you write each of them!
ROAD TRIP
hope you'll like it!
JINU❤️
Jinu takes the keys before you even realize what’s happening.
You’re halfway through saying, “I can drive the first—” when he’s already checking the mirrors, adjusting the seat, and setting the navigation.
“I’ll drive,” he says calmly.
You blink. “The whole way?”
“Yes.”
“…Jinu, it’s a seven-hour trip.”
“I’m aware.”
You laugh. “You don’t trust me, do you?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. Just gives you a look.
“I trust you,” he says carefully. “I trust myself more.”
He drives like the road personally offended him and he intends to handle it responsibly. Perfect distance between cars. Smooth braking. No sudden turns. Both hands on the wheel at all times.
You sit beside him, watching the scenery roll by. Every now and then, he glances over. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Too warm?”
“No.”
“Hungry?”
“…Maybe.”
He pulls over within ten minutes.
Jinu never complains. Never rushes. He just handles things. Snacks appear when you didn’t even realize you wanted them. Music is adjusted to your taste. When you start to doze off, he subtly drives one-handed so his other arm can rest near you, just in case you lean over.
At one point, you wake up with your head against his shoulder at a red light.
He freezes. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe too deeply. Just waits until the light turns green and keeps driving.
MYSTERY💜
Mystery is the one who planned the route. Not aggressively. Not obsessively. Just efficiently.
“There’s a scenic detour here,” he mentions casually, finger tapping the map. “And a rest stop with good coffee.”
You blink. “How do you know that?”
He shrugs. “I checked.”
He’s fine with letting others drive, but when it’s his turn, he’s smooth and calm—no radio too loud, no sudden movements. The drive feels safe with him.
Most of the time, he’s quiet. Watching the road. Occasionally pointing out something interesting. “That mountain range is older than it looks.”
You hum. “Do you really pay attention to stuff like this?.”
“…Maybe.”
At some point, you curl up in your seat and fall asleep. When you wake, there’s a blanket over you. You didn’t bring a blanket. You don’t ask.
Later, at a gas station, you find him staring at a rack of snacks like it’s a moral dilemma. “…Do I get the spicy ones?” he mutters.
You smile. “Get both.”
He does.
Mystery doesn’t say much, but every time you catch his eye in the rearview mirror, there’s this quiet contentment there. Like the road, the silence, and your presence all align perfectly.
ABBY💚
Abby is SO excited he can barely sit still. “This is gonna be AWESOME,” he announces as soon as you get in the car. “I call DJ!”
“No—” you start. Too late.
The music is loud. Upbeat. Questionable. Abby sings immediately. Off-key. Confident. Wrong lyrics.
“You know this song is about heartbreak, right?” you say.
“Not in my version!”
He insists on stopping every hour. “Bathroom break!”
“We just stopped.”
“Snack break!”
“You’re holding snacks.”
“Vibes check!”
Nobody knows what that means.
At some point when you're about to switch sits, Abby insists on continuing on driving and immediately regrets.
“OKAY FINE,” he says dramatically. “I just wanted to feel included.”
He naps hard in the backseat later, mouth slightly open, hoodie pulled over his head. You catch him smiling in his sleep.
When he wakes up, he leans over the seat. “Did I miss anything?”
“About two hours.”
“…Nice.”
ROMANCE🩷
Romance treats the road trip like a romantic event.
He insists on scenic routes. Opens the windows just enough to let fresh air in. Plays soft music that makes everything feel cinematic.
“This stretch of road is beautiful,” he says warmly. “Thank you for coming with me.”
You laugh. “We’re going to a rest stop.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “But we’re going together.”
He takes turns driving, but when you do, he sits beside you with absolute trust—one hand resting lightly on your thigh, thumb tracing slow, reassuring patterns. At stops, he buys you little things.
“A drink you like.”
“A snack you mentioned once.”
“A postcard, just because.”
When night falls, he suggests pulling over somewhere quiet. You sit on the hood of the car, wrapped in a jacket, stars above you.
“Trips like this,” he murmurs, “are about the journey.”
You smile. “You’re such a cliché.”
He grins back. “And yet you’re smiling.”
BABY🩵
Baby hates the idea of the road trip.
“This is inefficient,” he says, arms crossed. “We could’ve teleported.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” you ask.
“…Exactly.”
He drives aggressively, but not recklessly. Lots of commentary.
“Why is everyone slow?! MOVE!!!”
“Why are there so many signs?!”
“Why are you laughing?”
When you switch sits and you're the one behind the wheel, he refuses to nap. “I don’t sleep in cars.”
Twenty minutes later, he’s out cold.
When he wakes up, disoriented, he immediately reaches for you. “…We there yet?”
“No.”
“Unacceptable!!”
He insists he doesn’t need snacks but eats half of yours anyway.
By the end of the trip, he’s still complaining, but when you arrive, he lingers a moment before getting out.
“…Wasn’t terrible,” he admits. “…Don’t tell anyone though.”
Can I request headcanons for Saja Boys reacting to shy female reader who is always flustered even when she receive a kiss on the cheek or forehead from him please? She's never dated anyone before so it's her first time experiencing this!
YOU'RE ALWAYS FLUSTERED
hi I'm back!🤗
hope you guys are still here with me!❤️
JINU❤️
Jinu notices it the first time he kisses your forehead. It’s barely anything—just a brief, instinctive gesture. Soft, familiar.
And you freeze.
Your breath catches and your face goes warm. Your fingers curl nervously into the fabric of his sleeve like you don’t know what to do with your hands.
Jinu pulls back immediately.
“…Did I do something wrong?” he asks, concern flickering across his face.
You shake your head quickly, flustered. “No—! I just— I’m not used to that.”
He pauses. “You’ve never… dated anyone,” he says carefully.
You nod, cheeks burning. “This is all new for me.”
Jinu’s expression softens in a way that’s almost startling. “Oh,” he murmurs.
From then on, he’s gentler. He's not distant, just deliberate. Every touch is preceded by awareness. Every kiss is slower. When he presses his lips to your cheek, it’s light enough that you barely feel it, except you feel it everywhere. You still flush every time. He starts to smile faintly when it happens.
“I like that I can make you flustered,” he admits one night, thumb brushing your knuckles. “But I like even more that you trust me enough to let me.”
You look at him, heart pounding. Jinu leans down and kisses your forehead again, just as gently.
ABBY💚
The first time Abby kisses your cheek, he expects you to laugh.
Instead, you freeze, face turning bright red, hands flying up like you don’t know what to do with them.
“…Oh no,” he says immediately. “Did I mess up?”
You shake your head, flustered beyond belief. “I’m just— I’ve never had a boyfriend before.”
Abby’s expression changes completely. “Oh,” he says softly. “OHHH!!!”
He grins—but it’s gentle now, not teasing. “That’s kinda… really cute.”
You groan, covering your face. “I’m sorry, I’m just bad at this stuff.”
He laughs quietly, then reaches out and pulls your hands away.
“Hey,” he says warmly. “There’s nothing to be bad at.”
From then on, Abby is careful in his own loud, earnest way. He warns you before kissing your cheek. He laughs when you fluster, but never at you. He always does it with so much fondness it makes your chest ache.
“You get red so fast,” he says affectionately. “It’s like a superpower.”
And when you finally kiss him back? Abby short-circuits. “…Okay, so now I’m the flustered one,” he admits, laughing.
MYSTERY💜
Mystery doesn’t miss details. So he notices immediately how your shoulders tense whenever he leans in too close. How your eyes widen when he kisses your cheek, how you look away, flustered, trying to hide your smile.
One evening, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. You squeak. Actually squeak.
He pulls back instantly. “…Too much?” he asks quietly.
You shake your head, mortified. “No— I just— I’ve never had anyone do that before.” Mystery goes very still. Then he nods slowly, understanding settling in.
“That explains a lot,” he murmurs.
From then on, he gives you affection like it’s something fragile and precious. A brush of fingers instead of a handhold. A quiet kiss to your forehead when you’re not looking. And every time you flush, he notices.
“You don’t have to hide,” he tells you softly one night. “I think it’s… sweet.”
Your heart stutters.
He never rushes you. Never overwhelms you. When he kisses your cheek, it’s always slow, always when you’re already calm, already comfortable.
And when you finally lean into him on your own? Mystery’s smile is so soft it almost hurts.
ROMANCE🩷
Romance already knows you’re shy. He can see it in the way you hesitate, the way your breath catches whenever he leans close.
So when he kisses your lips for the first time and you immediately melt into embarrassment, he pulls back.
“My love,” he says softly, “is this too much?”
You shake your head, eyes downcast. “I’ve never… experienced this before.”
Romance smiles—slow, tender, understanding.
“Then we will go at your pace,” he says gently. “There is no rush in love.”
Every kiss he gives you is unhurried. He lingers just long enough to be reassuring, never overwhelming. When you flush, he cups your face softly, grounding you.
“You’re doing wonderfully,” he murmurs. “Just being yourself.”
Over time, you grow braver. And every small step you take, every time you don’t hide your face, Romance treasures it like a gift.
BABY🩵
Baby doesn’t expect your reaction. He kisses your cheek casually—then stops when you practically combust.
“…Did I break you?” he asks flatly.
You sputter. “I’ve never dated anyone before!”
He blinks. Then snorts. “Oh,” he says. “That explains why you look like you’re overheating.”
You smack his arm, embarrassed.
From then on, he teases you lightly, but there’s care under it. He gives you affection in small doses, pretending he doesn’t notice how much it affects you while definitely noticing.
“You’re adorable when you panic,” he mutters. “But don’t worry. I won’t overwhelm you.”
Then he leans in and kisses your lips—slower this time.
“See?” he adds smugly. “You survived.”
And when you finally get used to it? He’s the one pretending he’s not affected when you stop flustering and just smile.
Maybe for a Christmas request, you could do one where the reader is trying to get home on time for Christmas, but is held up by something, and when they finally get home they find their saja boy has fallen asleep waiting for them. So they decided to cuddle up with them and stay up watching the Christmas tree before falling asleep too and then it can end when they wake up on Christmas Day. Just something fluffy I suppose.
ADVENT CALENDAR 24 - 🎄 CHRISTMAS WITH YOU🎄
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!!!
I'M SO HAPPY THAT I MANAGED TO WRITE EVERYTHING EVEN THOUGH I HAD A REALLY HARD TIME!!! THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE FOR ME!!!!
☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄
JINU❄️
You thought you’d be home hours ago.
The snow started earlier than expected. Trains slowed. Roads iced. Every delay stacked on top of the last until your phone buzzed with another apologetic notification. Delayed again.
Your fingers ache with cold as you text him.
You: I’m so sorry. It’s taking longer than I thought.
Jinu: Don’t rush. Get home safely. I’ll be here.
That’s all he says. But you know Jinu. You know he meant waiting.
When you finally unlock the door, the apartment is dim and quiet. Only the Christmas tree lights glow softly in the living room, reflecting off ornaments you decorated together weeks ago.
Your breath catches when you see him. Jinu is asleep on the couch. Still dressed neatly, coat folded beside him like he’d planned to take it off properly but never got the chance. His head rests against the arm of the couch, one hand loosely curled in his lap.
He waited. Your chest tightens painfully. You move quietly, slipping off your shoes, shrugging out of your coat. You kneel beside him, brushing your fingers through his hair.
He stirs slightly.
“…You’re home,” he murmurs, eyes barely opening.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be so late.”
Jinu straightens immediately despite his exhaustion, concern replacing sleepiness. “Are you alright?” he asks softly.
You nod, tears pricking your eyes. “I am now.”
That’s all it takes. He opens his arms without another word, and you curl into him, cold melting away as his warmth surrounds you. He adjusts the blanket automatically, tucking it around your shoulders like muscle memory.
You sit together on the couch, legs tangled, the Christmas tree glowing in front of you. Neither of you speaks much. You don’t need to.
Jinu rests his chin against your head.
“I wanted you home before Christmas,” he murmurs. “Even if it meant staying awake.”
You tilt your head up, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “I made it.”
“Yes,” he says quietly. “You did.”
You fall asleep like that—under the tree, wrapped together, finally home.
MYSTERY🌨️
The night feels endless. Every minute you’re delayed feels heavier than the last. You imagine him waiting—quietly, patiently, pretending it doesn’t matter.
When you finally reach home, it’s past midnight. You expect darkness. Instead, the Christmas tree is still lit.
You step inside and see him lying on the floor, back against the couch, blanket draped over his shoulders.
Mystery is asleep, head tilted slightly. His hand still loosely holds his phone, screen dark. He didn’t want to miss you coming home.
Your throat tightens. You set your things down silently and lie beside him, careful not to wake him. You tuck yourself against his side, fitting perfectly like you’ve done a hundred times before.
His arm comes around you instinctively, even in sleep.
“…You’re here,” he murmurs.
“Yes,” you whisper. “I’m home.”
He exhales, tension leaving him all at once. His grip tightens just a little.
“I left the lights on,” he says quietly. “So it wouldn’t feel empty.”
You rest your forehead against his shoulder, blinking back tears.
The two of you rest like that, watching the lights blink softly. Snow drifts past the window. The world feels hushed, like it’s holding its breath.
Eventually, Mystery presses a kiss to your hair.
“Next year,” he murmurs sleepily, “we don’t let anything keep us apart.”
You smile softly. “Deal.”
You fall asleep together on the floor, wrapped in blankets and tree-light glow.
ABBY🎄
Snow is falling in thick curtains outside, the kind that looks magical if you’re inside with a mug of cocoa — and absolutely hellish if you’re out in it.
And unfortunately, tonight, you’re out in it.
You had promised Abby — promised — that you’d be back in time for Christmas Eve. You’d told him your plane is landing at 5 p.m., and that you’d be home long before the clock hits midnight. But the weather got worse and your plan landed and hour late, roads iced over, traffic snarled into a standstill, and the minutes bled into hours until you were sitting there staring at the glowing dashboard, heart thudding with guilt.
Abby was big on Christmas. He loved it — wholy, loudly, stubbornly. He loved the lights. The cookies. The music. The warm blankets and stupid movies that made him laugh until he snorted. And most of all he loved spending it with you.
So being late? Being stuck? It hurt.
You texted him updates, but he stopped replying about an hour ago, and your stomach twisted with worry that maybe he’d fallen asleep, or worse, was disappointed.
By the time you finally trudge up the walkway to your home, snow caking your boots and scarf stiff with frost, it’s nearly 1:00 a.m.
Your heart pounds as you unlock the door. The moment the door swings open, warm golden light floods out.
The Christmas tree glows softly, casting beautiful patterns across the living room. And right there — right at the base of the tree — lies Abby.
He’s sprawled across the couch, half-covered in a blanket, one arm dangling off the side like he fell asleep mid-wait. There’s an empty mug on the coffee table, crumbs of what’s probably his cookie, and a movie paused on the TV screen.
He stayed awake for you. He tried. He really tried. But what stops your breath — what melts every bone in your body — is what he’s wearing.
A pair of soft, fluffy slippers. A sweater you knitted him last year. And he’s snoring lightly. You press a hand to your chest, breath shaking.
“Abby…” you whisper. He doesn’t move.
You walk closer, the soft crunch of snow still clinging to your clothes, and brush a strand of hair from his face. His cheek is warm, flushed with leftover heat from the fireplace, and his expression is soft — no teasing grin, no sarcastic remarks. Just peace. The kind of peace he only gets when he feels safe.
He mumbles something in his sleep, lips twitching. Then murmurs your name. Your heart breaks a little in the sweetest way. You slip off your coat and boots silently, hang your scarf to dry, and then very carefully kneel beside the couch.
You whisper softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek: “I’m home, sweetie… I’m so sorry.”
Still half-asleep, he scrunches his nose and shifts — and his head flop sideways slightly. You smother a laugh.
Slowly, you ease onto the couch beside him, lifting the blanket and sliding under it. Abby instinctively moves toward the warmth, curling an arm around your waist like it’s second nature. He buries his face against your shoulder, breath warm and steady. “Mm… you’re late…” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.
Your chest tightens. “I know. I’m so sorry, baby.”
He nuzzles closer. “You smell like snow.”
You smile. “I hope that’s a good thing.”
“…’s cold. Come closer.”
You do. You fit against him like you’re meant to be there — and maybe you are. The tree lights flicker softly in the quiet room, painting everything in gentle golds and reds.
Abby tightens his hold around you with sleepy strength. “I waited…” he mumbles.
“I know. Thank you.”
“Hmph… didn’t wanna open presents without you. It’s lame without you.”
You kiss his forehead lightly. “I’m here now.”
He sighs softly, content, and tangles a leg with yours.
The room is silent except for the hum of the heater and the crackle of the fireplace embers dying down. Abby’s breathing evens out again, warm against your neck, and you stroke his hair gently. He looks adorable. Ridiculous and adorable. Your ridiculous, adorable Abby.
You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Slowly, slowly, you feel yourself drifting, exhaustion finally tugging you under.
But before you fully fall asleep, you hear him whisper — so faint you almost think you imagined it: “Thanks for coming home… love you…”
And then morning comes.
You wake to sunlight streaming through frosted windows, Abby’s arm still draped over you like a protective blanket. He shifts, blinking awake, messy hair sticking up wildly. He looks at you. Then grins — soft, sleepy, warm. “Merry Christmas, babe.”
You kiss his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Abby.”
He grins. “You’re gonna pretend I wasn’t looking totally stupid last night, right?”
You grin back. “Absolutely not.”
He groans and hides his face in your shoulder. You laugh and hold him tighter. And just like that — your Christmas morning is perfect.
Romance tries to stay awake. He really does. But the hours crawl by, and the warmth of the apartment, the quiet music playing softly, the glow of the tree—it all conspires against him.
ROMANCE⛸️
When you finally arrive, the sight stops you cold.
Romance is asleep in the armchair facing the tree, hands folded loosely in his lap. His head is tilted back slightly, expression peaceful in a way that makes your chest ache.
He looks like he’s dreaming of something gentle. You move carefully, kneeling in front of him.
“I’m home,” you whisper. His eyes open instantly.
“There you are,” he says softly, smiling like nothing else matters. “I was hoping I wouldn’t miss you.”
You laugh quietly, emotional. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
“I would wait longer,” he says easily, standing and pulling you into his arms. “Christmas doesn’t begin without you.”
You settle together on the couch, blanket wrapped around you both. Romance traces slow patterns on your arm as you watch the tree, the ornaments glittering softly.
“This,” he murmurs, “is my favorite tradition.”
You glance up. “What is?”
“Being here. With you. When the world finally slows down.”
You fall asleep curled against him, surrounded by warmth and light. And when you wake on Christmas morning, sunlight filters through the curtains, snow sparkling outside.
Romance presses a kiss to your temple.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispers.
You smile, safe and home.
BABY☃️
The snowstorm is cruel.
You hadn’t expected it to hit this fast, this hard, or this aggressively right when you needed to get home. Christmas Eve was supposed to be perfect — you and Baby had planned to make hot chocolate, watch the cheesiest movies you could find, cuddle on the couch, and stay up until midnight opening presents.
Baby had pretended he didn’t care.
“It’s just another day,” he’d shrugged earlier, eyes flicking away.
But then he’d spent two hours arranging Christmas lights so they looked “aesthetically chaotic.” He’d baked cookies but refused to admit they were for you. He’d even pulled out a special blanket he claimed was “only for important winter emergencies.”
You knew better. Baby loved Christmas. He loved being near you even more. So being late — being very late — crushed your heart.
By the time you manage to climb the snowy steps up to your home, the sky is pitch black, the world is silent except for the crunch of your boots, and guilt weighs heavy in your chest.
You unlock the door. The warmth hits you instantly. Soft light spills from the living room — the glow of the Christmas tree flickering gently across the walls.
And curled up on the couch, tangled in the blanket is Baby. He’s asleep. Completely, utterly asleep. His body sprawled like he just collapsed there waiting. His phone is still loosely held in one hand. A half-finished cup of cocoa sits beside him, a candy cane melting over the rim.
You bite your lip to keep from squealing. He’s wearing fluffy reindeer ears. Big, floppy, unbelievably cute reindeer ears that somehow make him look even more irresistible than usual.
You step closer, your heart melting into hot syrup. “Baby…” you whisper.
No response. You crouch beside the couch, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead. He shifts slightly, nose scrunching, lips parting in a soft sleep-mumble.
“Don’ go…” he murmurs.
Your breath catches. He must’ve fallen asleep waiting for you… terrified that you wouldn’t come home. You touch his cheek gently. “I’m here,” you whisper. “I made it home…”
Slowly, carefully, you slide onto the couch beside him. The moment your body sinks into the cushions, he stirs — his arms reaching out instinctively, looping around your waist and dragging you against his chest like you’re the missing piece of his puzzle.
He buries his face in your neck, voice barely audible: “You’re late. Hate it.”
You stroke his hair gently. “I know… I’m so sorry.”
He nuzzles in deeper, like he’s trying to erase the last few hours from existence. “You scared me,” he whispers. “Thought you’d be stuck… or somethin’ worse.”
Your chest tightens painfully. “I tried to get home. The snow was so bad.”
“Snow sucks. I hate snow.” He pauses. “…Okay, I love snow. Just not when it steals you...”
You smile, squeezing him gently. “I’m here now.”
Baby lets out a slow exhale, relaxing fully for the first time. He shifts just enough so he can look at you properly. Sleepy eyes. Messy hair. Reindeer ears flopping to the side. You cannot breathe for a moment. He looks soft. Breakable. Yours.
“You cold?” he mumbles.
“A little.”
He pulls the blanket over both of you and tucks you under his chin.
“I was tryin’ to stay awake…” he admits, voice low and thick. “Did good for like… twenty minutes.”
You laugh softly. “I’m proud of you.”
He grins in his half-sleep haze. “I made cookies…” He pauses. “For us. Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You’re absolutely laughing.”
You kiss his cheek gently. “Thank you for waiting.”
He blushes faintly, even half-asleep. “I wanted to see you… under the lights.”
You look toward the Christmas tree — shimmering, warm, glowing.
“Let’s watch them together now,” you say softly.
Baby presses his forehead against yours. “Yeah… ‘kay…”
You curl deeper into him as the lights twinkle. Time feels soft, slow, gentle. Baby’s breathing steadies. Your exhaustion finally seeps in.
Before sleep takes him completely, he whispers — barely a breath: “Love you... so much.”
You freeze for a heartbeat. Then whisper back: “I love you too.”
He smiles in his sleep.
And that’s how the night ends — two tangled bodies under a warm blanket, Christmas lights dancing across the room, snow falling quietly outside. When morning comes — Baby wakes first. He blinks, brushing his messy hair from his forehead. The reindeer ears tilt ridiculously.
He looks down at you, still sleeping peacefully against his chest. And for the first time ever Baby smiles like Christmas morning is magic. He whispers, so soft it barely exists: “Merry Christmas sweetheart.”
Then he kisses your forehead. And you wake up to the best Christmas you’ve ever had.
How about for 24, the Saja Boys tell you a story about how they met Santa Claus
ADVENT CALENDAR BONUS
I THINK I WENT OVERBOARD WITH THIS ONE😅🎄
hope you'll still like it!☃️🎄🎅🏻
☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄
JINU❄️
Jinu tells the story quietly.
You’re curled beside him under a blanket, fire crackling low, the Christmas tree lights reflecting softly in his eyes. You asked casually—“Have you ever met Santa?”—and he went still for a long moment before answering.
“…Once,” he says.
It was centuries ago, he explains. Winter harsher than now. A world less forgiving. Jinu had been traveling alone, duty heavy on his shoulders, when he found a small village buried under snow.
Children without toys. Homes without warmth. He stayed to help. Fixed roofs. Chopped wood. Left before dawn every day so no one would see him.
On Christmas Eve, he was resting near the edge of the forest when someone sat beside him without a sound.
“Hard work you’re doing,” the stranger said.
Jinu describes him simply: red coat, kind eyes, laughter that felt older than time.
“I knew immediately,” Jinu admits. “Not by magic. By presence.”
They spoke little. Santa offered him tea that never went cold. Jinu never asked how.
“You could have taken credit,” Santa said.
“I didn’t do it for praise,” Jinu replied.
Santa smiled. “That’s why I came.”
Before leaving, Santa placed something in Jinu’s hands—a small wooden star. “For when you forget why you endure,” Santa told him.
Jinu still has it. He looks at you now, expression soft.
“Every Christmas since,” he murmurs, “I remember that night.”
And you realize: Santa didn’t come to judge him. He came to thank him.
MYSTERY🌨️
Mystery’s story is quiet. Personal.
You’re sitting on the floor together, backs against the couch, mugs warm in your hands.
“I didn’t believe in him,” Mystery says. “Not at first.”
He was hiding then. Watching the world from a distance. Christmas meant noise. Crowds. Everything he avoided.
One night, while walking alone through a snow-covered city, he felt someone walking with him—matching his pace exactly.
“You don’t like being seen,” the man said gently.
Mystery nearly vanished on instinct. But Santa just chuckled. “You don’t have to hide tonight.”
They walked together. Talked about nothing and everything. Santa never asked for his name. Never pushed. At a quiet street corner, Santa stopped.
“You watch over people,” Santa said. “Even when they don’t know it.”
Mystery frowned. “That doesn’t make me good.”
Santa smiled warmly. “No,” he said. “But it makes you necessary.”
Before leaving, Santa handed him a bell—small, silver, unassuming. “So you remember you’re never as alone as you think.”
Mystery swallows slightly as he finishes. “You’re the first person I’ve told this to,” he says softly.
You lean into him. Santa saw him. And so do you.
ABBY🎄
Abby’s story starts with laughter.
“Oh yeah, I met him,” he says brightly. “And he yelled at me.”
You blink. “Santa?”
“YEP!!”
Turns out Abby once tried to “help” a Christmas Eve by delivering presents himself.
“I thought I was being efficient,” he insists. “Cut out the middleman!”
Santa caught him halfway through. “Those aren’t yours,” Santa said, arms crossed. Abby mimics the exact tone, making you laugh.
They argued. Loudly. Abby insisting he was helping. Santa insisting Abby was making a mess. Eventually Santa sighed.
“You have a good heart,” he said. “But you’re terrible at following instructions.”
Abby grins. “Still true.”
Instead of scolding him, Santa invited him along for the rest of the night—teaching him what Christmas was really about.
“Not speed,” Santa told him. “Not perfection. Just showing up with kindness.”
Abby leans back, smiling softly. “I’ve tried to remember that ever since.”
He nudges you playfully. “Guess I learned from the best.”
ROMANCE⛸️
Romance’s story feels like a fairytale. He tells it with soft music playing, your head resting on his shoulder.
He met Santa while singing. Alone in a snowy square, his voice echoing through empty streets, offering warmth where there was none.
Santa listened from the shadows. When Romance finished, Santa applauded.
“That,” Santa said, “is exactly the sound Christmas makes.”
They talked about beauty. About hope. About how love survives even the coldest centuries. Santa gave him a gift that night—not an object, but a promise.
“As long as you sing with love,” Santa said, “you’ll never sing alone.”
Romance presses a kiss to your hair. “I think,” he says softly, “that promise led me to you.”
BABY☃️
Baby scoffs immediately. “Santa? Yeah. I met him. He cheats at cards!”
You laugh. “No way.”
“WAY!”
Baby says they met during a winter where Baby was… not being particularly nice. Santa sat across from him anyway.
“You’ve been naughty,” Santa said casually.
Baby shrugged. “So?”
Santa smiled. “But you’re not hopeless.”
They played cards. Santa won. Repeatedly. Before leaving, Santa leaned in.
“You act like you don’t care,” Santa said. “But you do. That’s why you’re still on my list.”
Baby huffs. “Annoying old man.”
He glances at you, softer now. “…He wasn’t wrong, though. I met the love of my life! And I still get to prank Jinu so it's a win!”
How about for Xmas Eve, you get proposed to by the boys 🎄🎁 💍
ADVENT CALENDAR 23.5 - ☃️ PROPOSAL☃️
hope you'll like it!
☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄
JINU❄️
Christmas Eve is quiet with Jinu.
No loud music. No chaos. Just soft lights, the tree glowing gently, snow falling outside like the world is deliberately slowing down for you.
You’re standing by the window when he comes up behind you, resting a hand at your waist.
“You look tired,” he says softly.
“It’s been a long year,” you reply. He hums in agreement.
“So has mine,” he says. “But it was the best one.”
You turn to look at him — and that’s when you notice it.
The way his shoulders are straighter than usual. The way his voice is steady but careful. The way his eyes are serious, but warm. He takes your hands.
“I’ve lived a long time,” Jinu says quietly. “Long enough to know when something is fleeting… and when something is meant to last.”
Your heart starts to pound.
“This,” he continues, squeezing your fingers, “is not fleeting.”
He lowers himself onto one knee. You gasp.
“I don’t promise perfection,” he says, voice thick with sincerity. “But I promise constancy. Safety. A life where you will never doubt that you are chosen.”
He opens the ring box — simple, elegant, timeless. Just like him.
“Will you marry me?” he asks softly. “Not just for this life… but for every winter that comes after?”
You can barely breathe as you nod.
“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes.”
Jinu exhales shakily, a smile breaking through his composure as he slides the ring onto your finger — reverent, careful, like the moment itself is sacred. He presses his forehead to yours.
“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs. “Our forever starts tonight.”
MYSTERY🌨️
Mystery insists on staying up late.
“Just a little longer,” he says, pulling you down to sit with him beneath the Christmas tree. “It feels wrong to rush tonight.”
You’re wrapped in blankets, lights glowing above you, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the heater.
You’re talking about nothing when he suddenly goes quiet. You glance at him. “Mystery?”
He takes a slow breath.
“I’ve never been good at believing good things last,” he admits quietly. “But you… you changed that.”
Your chest tightens. He reaches into his pocket — hesitates — then pulls out a small box. Your breath catches.
“I don’t know what the future looks like,” he says honestly. “But I know who I want standing beside me when I face it.”
He kneels in front of you, eyes shining in the soft light.
“Will you marry me?” he asks. “Will you be my home… even when I forget how to believe in one?”
Tears spill freely as you nod, laughing through them. “Yes. Always yes!”
He smiles — small, real, completely unguarded — and slips the ring onto your finger before pulling you into his arms. He holds you tightly, forehead pressed to yours.
“I’m not running anymore,” he whispers. “I’m choosing you.”
ABBY🎄
Abby is way too cheerful for how late it is. You should have known.
“Okay, okay, sit,” he says, practically bouncing. “Trust me.”
The tree lights are brighter than usual. The room smells like pine and cocoa. You sit, suspicious. He suddenly drops to one knee.
“WAIT—” you gasp.
“I KNOW,” he blurts. “I KNOW THIS IS A LOT!”
He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I had this whole speech planned but— okay— I love you,” he says, words tumbling over each other. “And I don’t want another Christmas where you’re not my person.”
He pulls out the ring, hands shaking.
“You make everything better,” he says softly now. “So… marry me? PLEASE!?”
You’re already crying when you nod. “YES!”
Abby lets out a loud, relieved laugh and slips the ring on before pulling you into a crushing hug, spinning you slightly.
“I’M ENGAGED,” he announces to absolutely no one. “BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!!!!”
He kisses you breathless, forehead pressed to yours, eyes shining.
“I can’t wait to spend forever making you laugh,” he murmurs. “And stealing the blankets obviously!”
ROMANCE⛸️
Romance turns Christmas Eve into magic. Candles. Soft music. The tree glowing like something out of a storybook.
He leads you to the center of the room, hands warm around yours.
“There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you,” he says gently. He kneels, graceful and certain. Your heart soars.
“You are the most beautiful chapter of my life,” he says, eyes never leaving yours. “And I want every chapter after this to be written with you.”
He opens the ring box — delicate, elegant, perfect.
“Will you marry me?” he asks softly. “Will you let me love you for the rest of our days?”
You’re crying before you can even answer. “Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Romance.”
He slides the ring on, then stands and cups your face, kissing you slowly — reverently — like sealing a promise.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” he whispers. “Our forever begins tonight...”
BABY☃️
Baby pretends it’s not a big deal.
“Hey,” he says casually. “Come here.”
You do. He clears his throat. “So. Hypothetically. If someone were to ask you to marry them on Christmas Eve—”
You blink. “Baby?”
He drops to one knee. “…Yeah. That someone’s me!!”
You stare.
“I’m not doing a speech,” he mutters. “You already know I love you.”
He holds up the ring.
“I choose you,” he says simply. “Every day. Forever. You in?”
You laugh through tears. “Yes, of course!”
He exhales, relieved, and slips the ring onto your finger.
“Good,” he says, standing and pulling you into his arms. “Because I already told myself I wasn’t taking no!”
He presses his forehead to yours, smirking softly. “Merry Christmas, fiancé.”
Oh, in case no one's thought of this request for the advent calendar maybe saja boys x reader with their first winter holiday with their kid? Up to you the age of the kid, though admittedly it might be fun if the kid is young but not too young to be excited about the holidays
ADVENT CALENDAR 23 - ☃️WINTER TOGETHER☃️
okay, I think I managed to not make Baby grumpy. At least I hope so. I'm really trying to not transfer my own grumpiness and sadness into my works😓
the kids are all 8/9 because my friend's sister is 8 and she's always super excited about Christmas ☃️🎄
☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄
JINU❄️
Jinu believes holidays should be orderly. Structured. Meaningful. Respectful. Your daughter immediately ruins that.
She’s eight years old, bundled in a winter coat that’s slightly too big, boots clomping loudly against the floor as she races around the living room for the third time that morning.
“Dad!” she announces, skidding to a stop in front of him. “It snowed MORE.”
“Yes,” Jinu replies calmly, setting down his tea. “That is how snow works.”
She gasps dramatically. “I think uncle Baby caused it.”
Jinu closes his eyes. “…Why would Baby cause the snow.”
“BECAUSE HE SAID IT'S GONNA SNOW MORE LAST NIGHT AND IT DID!” she yells proudly. Jinu exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
This is your first winter holiday in a new house. You expected magic. You did not expect this.
Your daughter adores Baby. Admires him. Copies him. Laughs at his jokes. Which is, frankly, Jinu’s greatest fear.
When you all go outside to play in the snow, Jinu makes sure she’s properly dressed, scarf straightened, gloves secure. Baby, meanwhile, immediately teaches her how to pack a snowball “for maximum dramatic impact.”
“NO,” Jinu says sharply. “Absolutely not.”
She beams at Baby anyway.
Later, inside, she sits between you and Jinu under a blanket, hot cocoa in hand, cheeks flushed from the cold.
“This is the best holiday ever,” she declares. Jinu looks down at her, surprised. “…It is?” She nods enthusiastically. “Because we’re all together.”
Jinu’s expression softens. He drapes the blanket more securely around her shoulders, resting a hand gently on her head.
“Yes,” he says quietly. “We are.”
That night, as she falls asleep curled between you, Jinu watches her for a long moment. “…I will make sure every winter is like this,” he murmurs. Even if Baby ruins the discipline.
MYSTERY🌨️
The first snow of the season falls quietly. It isn’t dramatic — no storm, no howling wind — just a gentle layering of white that turns the world softer around the edges. Your son notices it before anyone else.
“Dad,” he whispers urgently, tugging on Mystery’s sleeve. “It’s snowing.”
Mystery looks up from the table, follows his son’s gaze to the window, and for a moment… forgets how to breathe.
Snow means many things to him — old memories, colder centuries — but this? This is the first time he gets to see it through his child’s eyes.
Mystery kneels beside him.
“It is,” he says quietly. “Looks like winter’s finally here.”
Your son’s grin is instant and infectious. “Does that mean it’s really almost the holidays?”
You laugh softly. “It does!”
The rest of the day becomes a blur of small moments that feel enormous.
Scarves chosen with great seriousness. Hot cocoa debates (“marshmallows or whipped cream?”). Mystery patiently helping your son hang ornaments — even when they’re crooked, even when one ends up far too low on the tree.
Later, you find Mystery sitting on the floor with your son, both wrapped in a blanket, building something together out of old decorations and paper snowflakes.
“What are you making?” you ask. Mystery glances up, a rare smile soft on his lips. “Something for you,” he answers.
That night, after your son finally falls asleep — exhausted from excitement — Mystery stands quietly in the doorway, watching him. “He’s happy,” he murmurs.
You slide your arm around his waist. “He is. Because you’re here.”
Mystery exhales slowly. “For years,” he says, voice low, “winter meant endurance. Silence. Waiting for it to pass.”
He looks back at the softly glowing room — the tree lights, the child asleep, the warmth of you at his side.
“Now,” he continues, “it means home.”
ABBY🎄
Winter arrives loudly in your house. Not quietly, not gently — loudly, in the form of your daughter skidding across the kitchen floor in fuzzy socks, arms full of paper snowflakes she absolutely insists need to go everywhere.
“Daddy!” she calls. “We need more tape! The GOOD tape!”
Abby looks up from where he’s trying, and failing, to untangle Christmas lights, blinking like he’s been summoned from another dimension.
“The… good tape?” he repeats.
She nods seriously. “The one that sticks but doesn’t ruin the wall.”
Abby looks at you, eyes wide. “…Do we have a good tape?”
You laugh, already handing it over.
This is the first winter holiday that you'll be spending in your house together. Not just you and Abby — but you, Abby, and the tiny hurricane of joy who somehow turned into an eight-year-old who believes winter is magic and Christmas is the most important event in the universe.
Abby watches her race off again, then exhales slowly. “…I can’t believe this is real,” he murmurs.
You bump his shoulder gently. “You say that every year.”
“I know,” he grins. “But this is the first year it feels like… like this.”
The house slowly transforms. Lights go up crookedly. Ornaments clink together as your daughter insists on hanging them herself — all at knee height, because “that’s her design choice.”
Abby pretends to protest. “Hey! You’re messing up the aesthetic!”
She plants her hands on her hips. “It’s whimsical, Dad.”
You swear you’ve never seen him look so proud.
That night, after hot cocoa and too many marshmallows, the three of you curl up on the couch under one enormous blanket. Your daughter is wedged happily between you, feet cold, hands warm, chattering nonstop about Santa logistics.
Abby wraps an arm around both of you. “You know,” he says softly, voice lower now, “I never really did holidays before.”
You glance at him.
“Not like this,” he continues. “They were loud, sure. But this…” He gestures vaguely at the tree, the lights, the girl half-asleep against you. “This feels like something I didn’t know I was missing.”
Your daughter yawns dramatically.
“Daddy,” she mumbles, eyes closing, “can we do this every year?”
Abby doesn’t hesitate. “Every year,” he promises, kissing the top of her head.
Later, after she’s tucked into bed with at least three bedtime stories and three stuffed animals that had to be placed just right, Abby stands in the doorway watching her sleep.
“She’s happy,” he says quietly.
You slip your hand into his. “She is.”
He squeezes your fingers, eyes shining. “So am I.”
ROMANCE⛸️
Your daughter insists the lights have to be perfect.
“No, Dad, that one’s too close to the other one,” she says, hands on her hips, utterly serious. “They need space to sparkle.”
Romance laughs, kneeling beside her. “As you wish, my dear decorator.”
She beams.
This is her favorite time of year — the lights, the colors, the magic — and Romance watches it all with a kind of awe that never quite fades. He never thought he’d have this.
You catch his eye from across the room as your daughter spins happily in her socks, humming to herself. He smiles at you — warm, grateful, overwhelmed.
Later, bundled under blankets, the three of you sit together watching old holiday movies. Your daughter slowly dozes off between you, head resting on Romance’s shoulder. He stills instantly.
You see it — the way his breathing softens, the way his arm curls protectively around her.
“She’s asleep,” you whisper. He nods.
“I know,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving her face. “I don’t want to wake her.”
When you finally carry your daughter to bed together, Romance tucks her in with reverent care, brushing hair from her forehead.
Back in the living room, the two of you sit quietly, tree lights reflecting softly in his eyes.
“I used to think holidays were performances,” Romance admits. “Something beautiful, but distant.”
He reaches for your hand. “Now they’re… real. Because of you. Because of her.”
You lean into him, warmth settling deep in your chest.
Outside, snow continues to fall. Inside, your family sleeps peacefully — safe, loved, and exactly where they belong.
BABY☃️
Baby has been waiting for this. The snow. The decorations. The excuse to be loud.
Your eight-year-old son is vibrating with excitement before breakfast.
“IT’S SNOWING,” he yells. “THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!”
Baby grins. “Correct.”
They’re a menace together.
Within ten minutes, they’re outside building the ugliest snowman known to mankind.
“It needs arms,” your son insists.
Baby hands him sticks. “Give him SIX.”
“WHY SIX?!”
“INTIMIDATION!”
You watch from the porch as they collapse into laughter, snow everywhere, Baby dramatically pretending the snowman has come alive.
Later, inside, your son sprawls across the couch between you, still buzzing.
“Dad,” he says seriously. “Can we do this every year.”
Baby slings an arm around him easily. “Obviously,” he says. “You’re stuck with me.”
They bake cookies together. Sort of. Baby lets him add way too many sprinkles.
“Remember, rules are fake. They were all made up by Jinu to stop us from having real fun!” Baby whispers.
Your son nods solemnly.
That night, you all curl up together under blankets, Christmas lights glowing softly. Your son yawns, leaning heavily against Baby.
“This is the best winter ever,” he mumbles. Baby’s voice softens without him realizing it. “Yeah,” he says. “It really is.”
When your son finally falls asleep, Baby stays still, one arm around him, the other resting behind you.
“…I like this,” he murmurs. “Family holidays.” You smile. “Me too.”
Outside, snow falls quietly. Inside, everything is warm.
Can I request headcanons for Saja Boys reacting to female reader falling asleep in his arms when he hugged her because she feels completely safe & comfortable with him for your advent calendar please?
ADVENT CALENDAR 22.5 - 🎄FALLING ASLEEP IN HIS ARMS🎄
I'm sorry for making Baby seem a little grumpy lately. I guess it's just me transferring my grumpiness on my favorite character. I promise I tried to make him not grumpy in this one☃️
☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄
JINU❄️
Jinu only meant to hug you for a moment.
You looked tired — more than usual — shoulders slumped, voice softer. When he pulled you in, it was gentle and steady, his arms a familiar place you’d leaned into countless times before.
But this time your breathing changes. Slow. Even. Deep. He realizes it when your forehead sinks into his chest and doesn’t lift again.
“…You fell asleep,” he murmurs, barely louder than a breath.
He doesn’t move. At all.
Jinu stands there, arms tightening instinctively around you as if the world might intrude if he loosens even slightly. His heart thumps once — hard — and then steadies, matching your rhythm.
You trusted him enough to let go. That realization settles deep in his chest.
He adjusts his hold just enough to support your weight, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head. His other arm stays firm around your waist, anchoring you.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, not because you can hear it — but because he needs to say it.
He doesn’t wake you. He won’t. Whatever needs to wait, will wait. This moment is more important to him.
MYSTERY🌨️
Mystery feels it before he notices it. The way your body relaxes completely. The subtle weight you place against him without hesitation. The warmth of trust.
He looks down just in time to see your lashes resting against your cheeks. Asleep. In his arms.
“…Oh,” he breathes. His grip tightens unconsciously — protective and present.
He shifts carefully, lowering himself to sit so you’re more comfortable, never once breaking contact. One hand stays warm at your back, thumb brushing slow, absent-minded circles.
“You feel safe,” he murmurs, voice barely sound at all. The idea humbles him.
He stays silent, still, letting the world fade away so nothing can disturb you. His thoughts soften, usually sharp edges dulled by the simple weight of you trusting him with your rest.
“If you knew how much this means,” he whispers, “you’d do it more often.”
He holds you until you wake — and even then, only loosens his arms reluctantly.
ABBY🎄
Abby hugs you like he always does — warm, familiar, comforting.
Then suddenly: “…Hey.”
He tilts his head. “Hey. You okay?”
No response.
He pulls back just enough to see your face — peaceful, slack with sleep. “…DID YOU JUST FALL ASLEEP ON ME??”
His voice is a whisper-shout, half shocked, half completely undone. He freezes, eyes wide, then very slowly wraps his arms back around you like he’s afraid moving wrong might wake you.
“Oh my god,” he whispers. “Oh my GOD!”
He looks around like someone might witness this sacred event.
“You trust me that much?” he murmurs, grin softening into something gentler. “That’s… wow.”
He adjusts his stance, shifts you carefully so you’re more comfortable, resting his chin lightly on your head.
“I’m not moving,” he decides. “I don’t care if my legs fall asleep. This is happening.”
Later, when you wake up, he’ll tease you endlessly — but right now? Right now, he’s glowing.
ROMANCE⛸️
Romance pulls you into his arms because he senses you need it. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t speak much. Just holds you close, warm and steady.
When your breathing evens out, his heart melts.
“Oh,” he whispers, smiling softly. “My darling…”
He presses a kiss to the top of your head, slow and reverent, then shifts so you’re cradled comfortably against him — like you belong there.
“You feel safe with me,” he murmurs, awe coloring every word. “That is the greatest gift anyone could ever give me.”
He stays still, breathing carefully so he doesn’t disturb you, one hand resting over your back like a promise. If anyone interrupts, they’re getting the look. This moment is precious.
When you wake, he’s still there — smiling softly, eyes warm, arms exactly where they were when you fell asleep.
BABY☃️
You hug Baby from the side, face pressed into his chest.
He stiffens slightly. “…You good?”
“Mhm,” you mumble.
He sighs and wraps an arm around you anyway.
“There,” he mutters. “Five seconds. That’s all you—”
Your weight suddenly goes limp. Your breathing evens out. You’re asleep. Baby blinks.
“…You fell asleep,” he says flatly. No response. “…You actually fell asleep.”
He looks down at you, unimpressed — and secretly very touched.
“Wow,” he mutters. “Rude. Using me as a pillow.”
He lets you stay there for a moment. Longer than he’ll admit. Then he smirks. First he pokes you with his finger. When you still don't move he pokes harder. Still nothing. Finally he nudges you — just enough.
You roll off the bed with a soft oof and wake up instantly. “BABY—!”
He’s already laughing. “YOU WERE DROOLING ON ME!!” he yells, rolling around on the couch.
“But don’t worry.” He holds a hand out to pull you back up. “Means you trust me. I’ll allow it.”
And when you crawl back into his arms, he doesn’t push you away again.
Hii for the advent calendar can i request cuddling with the saja boys under blankets in cold weather (fluff and/or suggestive?) Maybe after a snowball fight or something ❄️😅
Thank you!!! 🩵
ADVENT CALENDAR 22 - 🎄SNOWED IN🎄
hope you'll like it! one more and I'll post everything I missed!
☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄
JINU❄️
The snowball fight is a mistake.
You’re laughing too hard, cheeks flushed, gloves soaked through by the time you finally call a truce. Jinu looks composed as always — except for the faint smile tugging at his lips and the way his breath fogs in the cold.
“You’re freezing,” he says immediately, noticing the way you shiver.
“I’m fine,” you insist, teeth chattering. He doesn’t argue. He just takes your wrist gently and guides you inside.
The moment you’re indoors, he wraps you in a thick blanket — firm, like this is simply what he does. You sit together on the couch, snow melting from your hair, warmth slowly seeping back into your bones.
Jinu settles beside you, close but respectful. Then you shiver again. He hesitates — just for a breath — before pulling you fully against his side.
“…I’ll share my heat,” he murmurs. You relax instantly, cheek against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.
The room is quiet. Snow taps softly at the window. After a moment, his arm tightens slightly.
“You know,” he adds lowly, “this would be easier if you stayed still.”
You laugh softly. “Am I distracting you?”
“…Yes,” he admits, voice quieter. “More than you realize.”
The way his breath lingers near your hair tells you exactly how much.
MYSTERY🌨️
You come in soaked and laughing, hair dusted with snow. Mystery doesn’t say a word — he just hands you a towel and drapes a blanket around your shoulders.
You end up curled beside him on the floor near the heater, blanket pooled over both of you, knees touching.
At first, it’s quiet. Comfortable. Then you tuck your cold hands against his side without thinking.
Mystery inhales sharply. “…You’re freezing,” he murmurs.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be,” he interrupts gently, shifting closer. “Just… warn me next time.”
You glance up. “Why?”
He looks at you — slow, deliberate. “Because I’m trying very hard to stay calm,” he says softly.
The warmth builds between you, the blanket trapping heat, breath close enough that you can feel it. When he finally wraps an arm around you, it’s protective… and a little dangerous.
“If we stay like this much longer,” he murmurs near your ear, “I might stop pretending I don’t notice how close you are.”
Your heart stutters. You don’t move.
ABBY🎄
Abby is still laughing when you tumble inside.
“That was UNFAIR,” he says dramatically. “You totally aimed for my face!!”
“You started it!”
He plops onto the couch with you, immediately yanking a blanket over both of you.
“There,” he declares. “Survival mode.”
You’re both still buzzing from the cold, noses pink, fingers icy. You scoot closer for warmth. Abby notices. Immediately.
“Oh,” he says, suddenly quieter. “Okay, wow, uh—”
You grin. “What?”
He laughs nervously, scratching his neck. “Nothing! Just— you’re very warm. Like. Dangerously.”
He pulls you closer anyway, wrapping you up until you’re basically tangled together.
“This is fine,” he mutters. “Totally fine.”
You feel his heartbeat speed up. After a moment, he leans down and whispers conspiratorially: “If you keep cuddling me like this, I’m going to forget we were just throwing snow at each other.”
You laugh — but neither of you pulls away.
ROMANCE⛸️
The snowball fight ends with you breathless and rosy-cheeked. Romance immediately ushers you inside, fussing gently, towel and blanket at the ready.
“Oh my love,” he murmurs, wrapping you in layers. “You must be freezing.”
You end up on the couch, cocooned together beneath a heavy blanket, snowflakes melting into warmth.
Romance holds you close, one hand rubbing slow circles into your arm, his warmth enveloping you completely.
“This,” he says softly, “is my favorite part of winter.”
You tilt your head. “The cold?”
“No,” he smiles. “The excuse to hold you.”
The room glows with soft lights, the world quiet beyond the window. You feel his breath brush your temple as he leans closer.
“If we stay like this,” he murmurs gently, “I may start forgetting how cold we were.”
His thumb lingers a little longer than necessary. The warmth between you has nothing to do with the blankets anymore.
BABY☃️
You burst inside laughing, cheeks burning from the cold. Baby is already grumbling. “I told you snowball fights were a bad idea.”
“You loved it.”
He scoffs — but throws a blanket over both of you anyway, dragging you down onto the couch with him.
“Don’t move,” he mutters. “You’re like an ice cube.”
You snuggle closer for warmth. He stiffens. “…Hey.”
“What?”
“…Nothing.”
He adjusts the blanket, arm slipping around you like it’s accidental.
You feel him relax slowly, warmth building, tension humming beneath the surface.
“This is stupid,” he mutters. “Too cozy. Suspiciously cozy.”
You smile against his shoulder.
“If you keep doing that,” he adds quietly, “I’m going to start thinking you’re doing it on purpose.”
You don’t answer. He sighs — but pulls you closer anyway.
omg for the advent calendar, could I please get a fluff request of giving the saja boys a christmas gift - something like a stuffed animal or a sweater their S/O handmade for them in secret and they're so touched because it's the first real gift they have received in CENTURIES? I don't mind what day, but I'd prefer it to be in the first two weeks if that isn't too much pressure.
ADVENT CALENDAR BONUS
hope you'll like it!
☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄
JINU❄️
You give it to him quietly. It’s wrapped neatly — not flashy — just paper, ribbon, and your careful handwriting on a small tag.
“For you,” you say softly.
Jinu looks at it like he doesn’t quite understand the words. “…For me?” he asks. You nod.
“I made it,” you add quickly, suddenly nervous. “It’s not perfect, but I thought—”
He takes the gift slowly, like it might vanish if he moves too fast. When he opens it, there’s a pause.
Inside is something simple and warm — a sweater you stitched in secret. Soft. Personal.
Jinu goes very still. He doesn’t speak. He just looks at it.
You start to panic. “I’m sorry, I know it’s probably silly, I just—”
“No,” he says quietly, cutting you off. He swallows. “…I don’t remember the last time someone made something for me.”
Your heart tightens. He brushes his fingers over the fabric, slow and reverent.
“Gifts used to be… ceremonial,” he continues. “Symbols. Offerings. Never this.” He looks up at you then, eyes dark and earnest. “This was made with no obligation,” he says. “No expectation.”
He pulls it to his chest without realizing he’s doing it. “…Thank you,” he murmurs.
Later, you notice he keeps it beside him — not displayed, not shown off. Just kept. Like something sacred.
MYSTERY🌨️
You hesitate before giving it to him. Mystery notices.
“You’re nervous,” he says gently.
You laugh weakly. “Just open it.”
He does — careful, unhurried. The moment he sees what’s inside, his expression changes. Not surprise. Recognition.
“…You spent time,” he murmurs.
You nod. “I worked on it at night so you wouldn’t see.”
He exhales slowly, like something in his chest finally loosened.
“For centuries,” he says quietly, “gifts were things I didn't get .”
He lifts the item, holding it in both hands. “This,” he says, voice softer, “was given because you thought of me.”
Your eyes sting. Mystery looks at you, gaze warm and almost vulnerable.
“I will treasure this,” he says. “Not because it’s rare.”
He smiles faintly. “But because you are.”
Later that night, you find the gift placed carefully beside his bed — within reach.
ABBY🎄
You hand it to him like it’s no big deal. “Merry early Christmas!”
Abby grins, already excited. “Ooooh, PRESENT.”
He tears into it dramatically — then freezes. “…Wait.”
He pulls out the stuffed animal and just stares.
“You made this?” he asks slowly.
You nod. “Yeah. I thought you might like—”
His grin fades into something much softer. “…No one’s ever done that for me,” he says quietly.
You blink. “Ever?”
Abby laughs a little, but it’s shaky. “Okay, maybe ever-ever. But definitely not for a long time.”
He hugs the gift to his chest, then suddenly hugs you too.
“Do you know how much this means?” he murmurs into your hair. “Like, really means?”
You laugh softly. “I just wanted you to have something nice.”
Abby pulls back, eyes shiny.
“This is nice,” he says. “It’s proof.”
“Of what?”
“That someone chose me.”
He keeps it constantly after that — proudly, unapologetically.
ROMANCE⛸️
You give it to him with both hands.
“I wanted to make you something,” you say gently. “I hope that’s okay.”
Romance opens it slowly. The moment he sees it, he presses a hand to his chest.
“Oh,” he breathes. He touches it like it might be fragile.
“This is…” He laughs softly. “This is extraordinary.”
You fidget. “It’s just a gift—”
“No,” he says, smiling warmly. “It’s a choice.”
He looks at you with unmistakable affection. “For centuries, no one gave me gifts,” he says. “Thank you.”
He drapes the sweater over himself and holds the plush close.
“This,” he says softly, “is the first time someone has given me something simply because they love me.”
Your throat tightens. Romance leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“I will cherish this,” he promises. “As I cherish you.”
BABY☃️
You shove the gift at him quickly. “Here. Open it.”
Baby squints. “…Why are you acting weird.”
“Just open it.”
He does — rough at first — then stops. “…You made this.”
You nod. “Yeah. Don’t make it a thing.”
He doesn’t speak. He stares at it for a long moment. Then: “…That’s dumb.”
Your heart drops. “…Oh.”
He sighs, rubbing his face.
“No, I mean—” He struggles. “It’s dumb that this is the first time.”
He looks at you, eyes unusually soft. “No one’s ever given me something just because they wanted me to have it.”
He pulls the gift closer, holding it awkwardly, then suddenly hugging it close. “…I’m keeping this,” he mutters. “Forever. Yes forever sounds good.”
You smile.
Later, you catch him sleeping with it nearby — pretending it just ended up there.
