FIRST DATE, FOUR CENTURIES LATE.
for the first time in centuries the Saja boys went on a date, do they still have old rizz? how will it go? where will they go?
pairing - Jinu x reader, Abby x reader, Romance x reader, Mystery x reader, Baby x reader
warning - none
JINU SAJA — TEA AT GOLDEN HOUR
Jinu had spent three restless nights planning it.
Not because he doubted himself (he told himself) but because it felt safer to have a plan.
He'd always been calculated: the leader, the strategist, the calm center of the Saja Boys. Even now after centuries of living behind carefully chosen words and practiced smiles, he could still predict people's moves two steps ahead.
Except yours.
The path led to a hidden tea house with wooden beams softened by moss, paper lanterns starting to glow in the dusk. A garden waited inside, stones warm from the day, wind carrying the faint scent of plum blossoms. It was beautiful. Too beautiful, maybe like something from a dream.
At first, he looked flawless with graceful hands arranging porcelain cups, dark lashes lowered in quiet focus, that was when you noticed tiny slips. His fingers hesitating just before pouring tea, the way he seemed to check your expression before speaking, a half-told story that trailed into silence as his gaze turned inward.
"Sorry," he said with the softest tone, "it's.. been awhile."
You asked gently why he chose this place. He paused. The mask slipped. "Because it feels.. still," he murmured with eyes fixed in the floating lanterns inside the koi pond. "And sometimes i forget how to be still."
Later, walking side by side as lantern bobbed on the current of the river, their light catching his dark ever so slightly golden eyes filled with uncertainty if he could reach for your hand.
Head snapping to yours as he heard you tease "do you do this often? take girls to hidden gardens?". Jinu huffed a quiet laugh, "not in a very long time, i forgot how to do this.." he admitted "but i remembered, tonight, that i wanted to."
Stopping on the stone path, Jinu looked at you properly, "do you.. like it? Was it too much?" You nodded, heart thudding "i loved it. Because it felt like you."
Arms brushing. a soft, tentative question. When you didn't pull away, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
ABBY SAJA — PERFECTLY PLANNED, PERFECTLY AWKWARD.
There was no punctuation, no nothings. Just a simple message popping from the system's notification with a damned emoticons.
"picnic date with yours truly im outside by the way😈 💪"
The spot felt dreamy upon arrival. It was secluded hidden just beyond the city's bustling riverside, tranquil, free from interference. Even Abby himself looked stunned he was able to choose a place like this.
Spreading the soft blanket out from his gym bag that also contained some food such as banana, mismatched protein bars, two box of tiny milk cartons and convenience store kimbap. "I, uh— wanted to cook but then i thought about ordering, but.. thought this is more fun? honest? i dunno."
He wasn't one to plan dates, not for what felt like centuries he lived. Using technology for reference or even asking his band members. (they were no help)
The two of you ended up laughing non-stop over the most brainless thoughts. head on your lap like a personal pillow. Eyes never once blinked away memorizing every little detail.
Your eyes met his, warm and amused.
"Y'know," Abby admitted, scratching behind his ear, "i tried to plan something fancier but.. I thought this might be nicer. more us." Eyes searching for any signs of dissapointment.
"You were right," you said. just three words, but they landed right in his unbeating heart.
A relived smile washed over him, it was big, clumsy, and impossible to hide. "Good. 'cause next time.. maybe I'll actually cook."
ROMANCE SAJA — MORE THAN ROMANCE.
Everyone knew Romance.
The idol who could make fans squeal with a single wink. The one who’d drape an arm around anyone, whisper something teasing in their ear, and watch them turn red. The boyfriend idol.
But tonight, as he waited outside a quiet café tucked between old buildings, Romance wasn’t sure which version of himself he should bring.
He tugged at his bracelet, checking his reflection in the dark window. His smile looked the same as always. practiced, effortless.
But his heart felt different. Too fast, too soft.
You came around the corner, hair a little wind‑tousled, eyes lighting up when you saw him.
He grinned automatically, the grin millions had seen. But when you stepped closer, something slipped. His voice dropped, his posture relaxed.
Inside, the place was warm and smelled faintly of roasted beans and vanilla. Old posters curled slightly at the edges, and the wooden floor creaked under your steps.
Instead of choosing seats across, Romance slid onto the bench beside you. Close enough that your shoulders brushed.
He told himself it was instinct.
But the truth was, he liked the softness of sitting beside, not opposite. Together.
Soft teases here and there, "you know, you look cuter when you're focused on ordering.. food." You laughed, rolling your eyes and he almost said another line, the kind he’d say onstage or on camera.
But it caught in his throat.
Instead, he listened. Really listened.
When the date ended he stood with you, thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles. The words on his tongue were too familiar. “Don’t miss me too much tonight.” But he swallowed them.
Instead, he looked you in the eyes, voice low and real “I had a really good time… I hope you did too.”
Your smile was the answer he needed.
MYSTERY SAJA — ANGELS
Mystery rarely said anything he didn’t have to. But one evening, backstage, while the lights were still buzzing overhead, he met your gaze and nodded once toward a small folded paper in his hand.
An address. A time. Nothing else.
an old museum that stayed open late on Fridays that faded stone steps, heavy doors that smelled of iron and age. Inside, the lights were low as spotlights catching only parts of marble statues, leaving shadows to fill the rest.
When you stepped in, he was already there.
You walked beside him, slow steps echoing off the marble floors. At first, he didn’t say anything. He barely even looked directly at you but you felt it, the way he slowed if you lingered too long at a sculpture, the way he shifted so you were always on the side away from the draft of cold air.
It wasn’t cold, but the museum carried a chill that settled on your skin. You hugged your arms, and without a word, he shrugged out of his coat, holding it out.
Just a brief moment — eyes meeting yours, dark and unreadable. You took it, heart knocking hard in your chest. Thanks,” you whispered. He dipped his head, not quite a nod not quite a bow.
In the east wing, you stopped before a cracked stone angel.
One wing broken, its face half-worn by time. Mystery lifted a hand, almost touched it then lowered his arm again.
“It’s beautiful,” you said.
His gaze stayed on the ruined angel. Voice low, quiet enough that you almost missed it “Because it’s broken,” he murmured. Not smiling, not sad but just true.
You watched him then how the dim light softened the lines of his face, how the usual iron calm seemed gentler here.
How, in the hush of ancient halls, he looked a little less alone.
Later, you stepped out onto a stone balcony. The city lights glowed far below, blurred by glass and distance.
You felt the weight of his presence beside you — steady, grounding.
A breeze lifted your hair cool on your neck, before you could react, his hand rose, pausing in midair as if asking permission and when you didn’t pull back, he gently tucked the strand behind your ear. Still no words, just that small, deliberate gesture — careful as breathing.
Mystery looked at you, quiet and serious. Then the smallest nod, almost imperceptible. And a look that stayed longer than any sentence could have. No smile, no promise spoken aloud.
Just silence filled with soft, heavy, full of something that felt a lot like hope. Because with Mystery, love didn’t need words. For he only needed your presence.
BABY SAJA — OLD GHOSTS AND BURNT POPCORN
He hates the idea of a 'normal date'
Dinner? Boring. Museum? Extra boring.
The message had come late at night. A half‑joking, half‑daring voice note:
“Wear sneakers. No dresses, no fancy hair. I’m kidnapping you tomorrow. Say yes or live with the regret.” You listened twice, laughing while you said yes.
It wasn’t the glossy amusement park everyone posted selfies from. This one had been built decades ago — paint flaked on wooden fences, prize booths with faded stuffed animals, carousel horses missing bits of gold. Of course baby picked this place.
But there was something oddly alive in its rust and wear yet Baby looked at it like an old friend. "Hey, stop judgin me, he's been staring at me since the 70's."
Baby is one hell of a competitive, but it seems like he was unable to focus once.
At the shooting gallery, you caught him watching you instead of the target.
At the haunted house, he swore he'll make you cry yet here he is making sure you won't.
At the claw machine it costs him sweat and tears to win a plush rabbit for you while dramatically insisting, "it cost me half my pride, guard it with your life." He said.
On top of the ferris wheel, the wind made your hair dance as neon lights blinked below reflecting on the metal. He sprawled across the bench like he owned the damn place while reassuring, "dont worry.." he said quieter than before. "I'm older than this rust bucket, if it falls I'll catch us." And you didn't know if it's true or not.
You asked softly, "have you been here before?" A flicker of his grin faltered, "yeah, a long time ago. It looked newer, brighter." His voice lost in the wind as he whispered, "funny huh? Even rust feels like an old friend after enough years."
Both sharing burnt popcorn on a bench where the paint peeled into your shirt with curled flakes. Spinning your bunny plush by the ears as he boasted "not bad for a first date, right?" He teased.
"Next time," his lips curling into a smirk, "you pick where, but if it's boring im dragging you back here."
note : first time coming back here to write! hopefully I've improved since my obey me era istg.. btw creds for the dividers @cafekitsune and @sperocordolium
