thatonegrimm

[thatonegrimm]

Hii!! I was wondering if you could do the Saja Boys (separately) what would be their reaction to the reader saying "I love you" for the first time 🫶

Thank you for the request! This was so cute, here you go!💌

🌙Saja Boys x Reader — First I Love You

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🧿 Jinu

You say it while he’s refilling both your mugs — steam curling between you, kettle hissing low on the stove. “I love you.”

The sound makes him pause mid-pour. His hand steadies, water filling the cup with a slow trickle. He glances up, eyes unreadable at first, mouth parting like he’s trying to decide if he heard you right.

You don’t take it back.

“…You can’t just say that when I’m out of coffee,” he murmurs finally, tone light but pitched low enough to hide the way his ears turn red.

“You’re avoiding.”

“I’m… processing,” he says, setting the kettle aside. The metal clicks softly against the counter. His fingers tap once against the mug before he pushes it toward you. “You just… caught me off guard.”

You shrug, trying not to smile. “You’ve caught me off guard a hundred times. Figured it was fair to return the favor.”

For a second, he studies you like you’re a puzzle with one piece left to fit. Then he leans forward, both hands braced against the counter, and says — softer this time “…I love you too.”

It’s not a rush. It’s measured, deliberate, like he wants every word to land. His fingers brush yours when you take your cup, lingering longer than necessary, and when you look up, his smile is quiet but sure.

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💪 Abby

It comes out after he makes you laugh so hard you have to lean against him to breathe. You’re doubled over, trying to catch air, when the words slip free. “I love you.”

He blinks, still grinning. “You do?”

“Yeah.”

His grin somehow gets bigger, his eyes going soft around the edges. “Good. Because I love you too. Been-waiting-to-say-it, love you.”

You laugh again, and he steps closer, one arm sliding around your back in that easy, protective way he has. “Say it again,” he says.

“I love you.”

He pulls you into a bear hug, lifting you slightly off your feet. “Yeah, that’s it. You should say it all the time. Every day. Twice on weekends.”

“Abby—”

“What? I’m serious. Feels good hearing it from you.” He sets you down but keeps an arm around you, head tilted to catch your eyes. His smile softens. “Feels even better saying it back.”

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📚 Mystery

The TV hums softly in the dark, flickering light over the couch. Mystery is half-sprawled, one ankle over the armrest, book balanced in his hands.

“I love you,” you say, barely above the static.

His fingers pause on the page. Slowly, the book lowers, his head turning until those hidden eyes catch the glow. For a moment, he doesn’t speak — just studies you.

You start to fidget under his gaze. “You don’t have to say it back—”

“Say it again.”

Your breath catches. “…I love you.”

A quiet breath escapes him, like tension he didn’t realize he was holding. He slides the book onto the coffee table, shifts closer until your knees brush, and drapes an arm loosely along the back of the couch.

“…Good,” he murmurs, but the corner of his mouth betrays the faintest smile.

It’s not a grand gesture. It’s Mystery — understated, careful — but his thumb finds your shoulder, tapping once, twice, like he’s memorizing the shape of you there. And he doesn’t move away.

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💋 Romance

You’re in a boutique, surrounded by velvet and gold light, watching him admire himself in a fitted jacket. He turns just enough to catch your gaze in the mirror, eyebrows raised.

“I love you,” you say before you can think.

He stops mid-turn. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

The smile that blooms on his face is slower this time, warmer. He steps away from the mirror, closing the space between you until his perfume crowds the air. “I love you too,” he says, voice low enough to feel like a secret.

Your cheeks heat, but you can’t look away. He reaches up, fingers brushing a stray hair from your face. “I want to remember exactly how you looked when you said it.”

You huff a laugh. “You’re making it weird.”

“I’m making it memorable,” he corrects, then kisses you — not rushed, not performative, just deliberate. When he pulls back, his hand lingers against your jaw. “Guess this jacket’s lucky now.”

----------------

🔥 Baby

Night air curls cool around you as you walk home, hands brushing now and then but never quite meeting. He’s talking about something — music, maybe — when you cut in. “I love you.”

He doesn’t look over right away. “Yeah, I know,” he says, almost casual.

You scoff. “Great response.”

A beat passes before his hand finds yours, fingers locking in like they’ve been waiting for the chance. “…I love you too.”

It’s quiet, almost offhand, but the pink along his cheekbones gives him away. You nudge his arm with your shoulder. “You could’ve led with that.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he mutters, but he’s still holding your hand — tighter now, thumb brushing over your knuckles every so often like he’s checking you’re still there.

By the time you reach your building, he hasn’t let go once.

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M-List

[thatonegrimm]

Ok, we’re back to the regularly scheduled broadcast! I’m still buried in schoolwork, so things might be moving a little slow and irregular for a while. For today, it’s just that fic, but I’ll try to respond to all the messages sometime today (maybe... hopefully).

Also, a huge thank you to everyone for sticking with me, we’ve officially hit 2.4k followers! I really appreciate every single one of you. Love y’all so much! ❤️❤️❤️

Also yes, I’m definitely behind on the follower fics, a poll for the next one will be going up sometime this week.

[thatonegrimm]

✨250 Follower Special 2k✨

🏬Lost in IKEA🏬

Summary: What starts as a simple trip to buy a bookshelf quickly turns into a maze of distractions, detours, and unexpected discoveries when you and the Saja Boys get lost in IKEA. Amid the chaos, laughter, and a few strategic snack breaks, you realize sometimes the journey is more memorable than the destination.

CW: None

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It was supposed to be a quick trip.

One bookshelf. That was all you came for—a single, sensible piece of furniture to fill the yawning emptiness in your living room. In your mind, the mission was simple: walk in, point at the thing, pay, leave.

But five minutes into IKEA’s labyrinth of staged kitchens, mood-lit bedrooms, and suspiciously cozy fake living rooms, you realized this wasn’t shopping anymore. This was a quest. A domestic odyssey. The kind of journey where the “map” is a series of cryptic arrows on the floor, and yet you still manage to lose yourself in the throw pillow section, surrounded by forty-three shades of beige you didn’t know existed.

Somewhere between “modern Scandinavian minimalism” and “industrial chic,” your sense of time, space, and purpose began to dissolve. You started questioning not just the floor plan, but the very laws of geometry. How could a building have this many corners? How had you walked past the same kitchen island three times? And the worst part? You still hadn’t even seen the bookshelves.

The Saja Boys had already fanned out into a loose, restless formation around you, moving like a school of fish with no shared direction. Romance trailed a few steps behind, pausing at every vanity like a magpie spotting something shiny. Abby kept gravitating toward the clink of cookware displays, his hands finding frying pans the way some people found stray coins. Jinu, armed with a crinkled store map, was reading signage aloud in an overly confident voice that convinced no one. Mystery had already disappeared down a side aisle, last seen muttering something in Swedish at a lampshade. And Baby was three steps ahead, scanning each turn like he expected the furniture to attack.

The arrows on the floor urged you onward, deeper into the maze. Somewhere out there, a bookshelf waited for you. Probably.

----------------

Abby broke first.

You were still steering the cart toward the bookshelves when he veered off without warning, drawn in by the siren song of nonstick frying pans and silicone spatulas like he’d been deprived of home goods his entire life.

From somewhere behind you, Jinu’s voice rang out, “Main path! No detours!”—just as Romance trailed past muttering something about “an unforgivable curtain rod situation.” Neither slowed down enough to notice Abby already had three novelty cutting boards in hand, each shaped like a different animal.

“You said bookshelf, remember?” you called, trying to keep the cart from wobbling as he plopped them inside.

“Yeah, but—look.” He plucked a cheese grater off the display and held it up like an archaeologist unveiling a priceless relic. “This one’s ergonomic. My hand wouldn’t cramp up making hash browns.”

“You don’t even cook.”

“Yet,” he said, grinning in that reckless, boyish way that made it impossible to stop him. Somewhere down the aisle, Mystery passed carrying a lamp shaped like a mushroom. He paused, studied Abby’s grater, then simply said, “Acceptable,” before disappearing again.

You gave up on arguing. Resistance was futile.

The next time you spotted Abby, he’d somehow migrated to the IKEA café, a paper plate balanced in one hand. He took a slow, reverent bite of a mini cinnamon bun, powdered sugar clinging to his lips like a blessing from some benevolent carb deity.

“These,” he announced, gesturing at the tray as if delivering a sermon, “we need for the dorm. I’ll guard them from Mystery.”

“Too late,” Romance called from the next table over, already halfway through one. 

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Romance didn’t even make it past the lighting section.

You opened your mouth to reply—only to realize he was no longer beside you.

One moment, he was strolling beside you, long fingers trailing over a model kitchen’s countertop like he was appraising fine marble. He tapped it with a knuckle, tilted his head, and frowned slightly—an art critic reviewing a questionable piece.

“They should’ve gone with brushed brass handles,” he murmured, leaning in conspiratorially, as if the display itself might be offended. “This gold is too warm. Clashes with the backsplash. Ruins the mood.”

From somewhere behind you, Jinu called, “Stay on the main path!” just as Abby’s voice drifted over from the cookware section, “Do we need a strainer or no?” Neither seemed to notice Romance had already vanished.

You found him two aisles over, draped languidly in a showroom vanity chair like it had been placed there for him and him alone. One ankle crossed over the other, posture regal but relaxed. The ring lights around the mirror glowed in soft white, and he was turning his head just enough to watch the highlights shift across his cheekbones in each bulb’s reflection.

“My love,” he called when he spotted you, his tone equal parts delight and revelation, “look at this lighting. You could film a drama confession scene right here.”

“That’s because it’s staged to sell makeup tables, not for—”

He cut you off with a perfectly manicured finger against your lips, eyes narrowing in mock severity. “Shh. Don’t ruin it.”

Somewhere behind you, Baby’s voice carried faintly: “We’ve already been down this aisle.” You ignored it as Romance, without breaking eye contact, leaned back, angled his phone, and snapped a photo—him in flawless focus, you blurred in the background mid-eye roll, like a reluctant extra in his personal commercial.

He stopped mid-step. Mid-breath.

Throughout all this Jinu approached IKEA like it was a high-stakes mission. The store map was folded crisply in his hand, his eyes flicking from the paper to the signage ahead like he was cross-referencing coordinates.

“We stick to the main path,” he instructed again, his voice firm. “No detours. The moment you branch off, we—”

“Oh,” he said, softer now, almost reverent.

Your gaze followed his, landing on a bin of plush toys tucked at the end of an aisle. Among the sea of bright colors sat a single blue tiger, its stitched eyes tilted up, mouth curved in a perpetual half-smile. It looked like it had been waiting just for him.

Somewhere behind you, Abby was loudly defending the need for a second cheese grater to Romance, who was insisting there was “no aesthetic reason” to own more than one. Neither seemed to notice Jinu move toward the bin.

“Oh no,” you muttered, knowing exactly where this was going.

He approached slowly, like the plush might spook if he rushed it. His hands cradled it carefully, thumbs brushing over the seams, pausing to straighten one floppy ear. The commander’s edge in his posture had melted away entirely.

“Jinu,” you began, the words slow, deliberate, “this isn’t on the list.”

He lifted his eyes to yours—utter sincerity wrapped in just enough mischief to make you roll yours. “Neither was meeting you.”

Before you could reply, Mystery glanced at the plush, and muttered, “Derpy 2.0,” under his breath. Jinu tucked the tiger under his arm and strode forward, head high, as though this had always been the plan.

----------------

Mystery was walking beside you, quiet as ever. Then the space where he’d been was empty—just the aisle stretching ahead, lined with staged living rooms and carefully curated clutter.

You slowed, scanning for any sign of him, while Baby’s voice floated back from up ahead: “If we’re lost, it’s because you keep stopping.”

Doubling back, you caught something faint under the hum of conversation and distant clatter of carts—low, steady humming, threading through the air like it was leading you somewhere on purpose.

You followed it into the warehouse section and found him crouched beside a teetering stack of flat-packed lamps. His fingertips skimmed over the boxes, tracing the blocky printed Swedish names—foreign, lilting syllables—reading them out under his breath like half-forgotten incantations.

When he finally noticed you, he didn’t startle. Didn’t move. Just turned his head slowly, the humming fading into silence.

“Finding the most cursed lamp,” he murmured, holding up a bulbous, fringed monstrosity that looked like it belonged in the background of a haunted house documentary.

From somewhere beyond the shelving, Romance called, “That thing is hideous!”—and Abby immediately shouted back, “We’re buying it!”

The way Mystery stared at the lamp—too still, too intent—you couldn’t tell if speaks to me would’ve been a joke… or a warning.

By the third showroom, Baby was the only one still moving with any sense of purpose. Everyone else had scattered into IKEA’s carefully staged chaos—Abby sprawled across a display mattress like he was testing it for a lifetime lease, Romance rubbing a silk pillowcase between his fingers like it was a fine wine, Jinu comparing two fake ferns with unnecessary suspicion, and Mystery… well, Mystery had disappeared again.

You stuck close, hovering just inside Baby’s orbit—three steps behind, where you could watch the way his gaze flicked from the floor arrows to the end of each aisle, already plotting an escape route.

“This place is a labyrinth,” he murmured over his shoulder, voice low enough to feel like a warning. “Designed to trap you. They want you to spend money.”

From the cookware section, Abby called, “Too late for that!” followed by the clunk of yet another unnecessary gadget hitting the cart.

“You’re buying that lamp Mystery found, aren’t you?” you asked.

He didn’t even break stride—just pushed his hood higher, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might smile but was too proud to let it show.

By the time the group regrouped the cart was absurd—two plush blue tigers, an ergonomic cheese grater, three scented candles, a mug set that didn’t match, and the cursed lamp in question.

----------------

You hadn’t planned to stop, but the smell of Swedish meatballs curled through the air like bait, hooking the whole group without mercy.

“I’m just getting coffee,” you said firmly, grabbing a tray.

Ten minutes later, you were carrying that coffee… plus a cinnamon bun, a tiny carton of milk, and—somehow—half of Abby’s mashed potatoes balanced next to it.

Romance was already seated across from you, stirring sugar into his coffee with your spoon like the concept of ownership was flexible. “I’m only getting the kids’ mac and cheese so I’ll have room for cake,” he announced, glancing toward the dessert case like it had personally betrayed him. “Two slices. Minimum.”

“Two?” Abby mumbled around a mouthful of meatball, parsley clinging to his grin. “That’s rookie numbers. I’ve got my cinnamon bun and a backup cinnamon bun for later.”

Jinu, beside him, was cutting his meatballs into perfect halves, brows knit in quiet focus. “The gravy-to-meat ratio is off,” he explained, sliding one of the better-coated pieces onto your plate without looking up.

Mystery, across the table, was alternating bites of soft-serve and sips of lingonberry soda like he was testing a delicate formula. “Sweet, tart, sweet, tart,” he murmured. Then, without warning, he dipped his spoon into your coffee. “Testing,” he added, sipping before you could object.

At the far end, Baby sat angled toward the self-serve dessert freezer like a sentry. “If one of you distracts the cashier,” he said casually, “I can grab a Daim cake for the road.”

“No one’s stealing cake,” you warned—just as Romance raised his hand in silent volunteer and Abby slid him a cinnamon bun like it was payment.

The conversations tangled—Abby trying to bribe you with the other cinnamon bun for more potatoes, Jinu correcting Abby’s fork grip mid-bite, Mystery muttering flavor notes into his ice cream, Baby sketching out a cake-theft timeline under his breath.

By the time trays were pushed away, the food was gone, the receipts were crumpled, and you were all moving with the slow, heavy steps of people who’d eaten too much.

Somewhere between the cafeteria doors and the parking lot, Abby fell into step beside you and pressed his untouched cinnamon bun into your hand.

“For the bookshelf we didn’t get,” he said, that easy smile making it sound less like a joke and more like a promise.

And honestly? It almost made up for it.

You drove home without the bookshelf, but with a suspicious amount of kitchen gadgets, two plush tigers, and one haunted lamp Mystery swore would “find its true place” in your room.

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M-List

Taglist: @honey-and-sweetdreams @lyunsafebubble @reixtsu @ghostiiess @kpopmultistans @viktor-enjoyer @ash-creationz

[thatonegrimm]

Upade on the update: Ok, so no posts continuing through this weekend(these classes are trying to kill me, lol). I will have something interesting for Monday, though. So y'all can look forward to that!

Thank you all for the kind messages!❤️❤️❤️

Quick Update

sigh Okay y’all—those of you in college know how it is with summer classes: short, fast, and brutal. I feel like I just started, and it’s already midterm week (woohoo...). Even though it’s only Monday, I can already tell I’ll fall behind if I split my focus too much.

So heads-up: posts will be iffy until Friday. You’ll still get the weekend content, and I might be able to squeeze out one or two things during the week. I’ll really try to find time to answer the inbox too, but school has to take priority right now. Thanks for understanding ❤️

[thatonegrimm]

Quick Update

sigh Okay y’all—those of you in college know how it is with summer classes: short, fast, and brutal. I feel like I just started, and it’s already midterm week (woohoo...). Even though it’s only Monday, I can already tell I’ll fall behind if I split my focus too much.

So heads-up: posts will be iffy until Friday. You’ll still get the weekend content, and I might be able to squeeze out one or two things during the week. I’ll really try to find time to answer the inbox too, but school has to take priority right now. Thanks for understanding ❤️

[thatonegrimm]

hiiiiii I have returned. but this time I am requesting something eheheeheheh

how about the saja boys (separately) with a fallen angel reader? like my personal oc was an angel who sang and ended up with to much of an ego (pride) and ended up falling into the demon realm because of it. They have a hard time looking at themselves in the mirror, for both their changed physical appearance (ex; white angelic wings have now turned to black) and because of their complex feelings towards themselves (loathing themselves for falling and what they did to cause the fall, trying to fix themselves in the hope that one day they might be redeemed, but also not entirely regretting the fall because otherwise they probably wouldn’t have met the Saja Boys). How do you think the Saja Boys would comfort the Fallen Angel? Would they treat a fallen angel differently than any other demon? idk I’ve just been thinking about this so much and I’m bad at wordsing I want to hear your thoughts and read your writing about it! tysm!! ❤️❤️❤️

-🌺 

Thank you for the request! This was definitely an interesting one. Here you go! 💌

🌙Saja Boys x FallenAngel!Reader

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🧿 Jinu 

You found him waiting outside the bathroom, his back against the wall like he’d been listening but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to knock.

“I don’t know how to look at myself anymore,” you said before he could ask. “I thought maybe today would be better, but... it’s not.”

Jinu didn’t flinch. Just tilted his head and gave a quiet, thoughtful hum.

“You know,” he said, “Derpy, used to be terrified of his own reflection too. Would puff up, hiss, even claw the glass like it was an enemy.”

You blinked. “What changed?”

“He realized it wasn’t someone else looking back at him,” Jinu said simply. “Just... someone he hadn’t learned to love yet.”

You gave a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “You really think I can love this?” You motioned vaguely at your wings, the ink-dark feathers and the scars where light used to shine.

“I do,” he said. “Because I already do. And not just in spite of it. Maybe because of it.” He hesitated, then held out his hand. “Come with me. I’ll cover the mirror if you want. But I’d rather just sit beside you while you face it.”

He didn’t rush you. Just waited, hand out, patient in a way that made your throat ache. Eventually, you took it. Not because you believed him yet—but because part of you wanted to.

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💪 Abby 

You were crouched on the rooftop, wings drawn tight to your back, shoulders trembling from holding them in.

Abby landed beside you with a thump, crunching a bag of chips in one hand.

“I brought salt and vinegar,” he said casually, holding it out. “You always make that lemon face when you eat 'em, but you still finish the bag.”

“I didn’t ask you to come up here.”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted company.” He nudged your shoulder with his, firm but gentle. “You keep punishing yourself for falling, like you’re not allowed to breathe unless it’s penance.”

“I chose pride,” you muttered. “Chose wrong. The fall was fair.”

Abby’s eyes softened. “So? I chose to punch a demon general in the face because he insulted a baby goat. That was dumb. Doesn’t mean I don’t deserve good things now.”

Your laugh was wet and surprised. He scooted closer, carefully adjusting one of your wings to fit around his back.

“You’re strong enough to change. Strong enough to forgive yourself eventually. And I’m strong enough to hold you until then.”

You stayed like that in silence for a while, chip bag crinkling between you, your wings awkwardly wrapped around someone who didn’t see them as ruined—only real. He didn't try to fix it. He just stayed.

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📚 Mystery 

You hadn’t meant for him to find you in the storage room.

But of course he did—he always showed up in shadows you didn’t know you’d left open.

“I told you not to follow me.”

“I didn’t,” he said. “The mirror led me.”

You blinked, startled to see your own reflection in a cracked antique one behind him. The black feathers. The sliver of your halo, flickering faint and broken. The reminder.

“I hate it.”

“I don’t,” he said softly. “You’re not supposed to look the same. You grew teeth and scars. That’s what truth does.”

Your throat tightened. “It’s not truth. It’s failure.”

He took a step closer, close enough for his bangs to brush your cheek.

“If you were still perfect, I couldn’t touch you,” he murmured. “Couldn’t talk to you like this. You were untouchable. Now… you’re mine to hold.”

When he kissed the corner of your jaw, it wasn’t possessive. It was reverent. As though your brokenness made you holy in a way Heaven never did. And for a moment, you wondered if he was right.

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💋 Romance 

He caught you mid-wing stretch—accidental, vulnerable. You hadn’t meant to show him. The way your feathers dragged. The way they molted unevenly, shedding something too close to grief.

Romance didn’t gasp. He didn’t wince. He just smiled, soft and knowing.

“Oh, mi cielo,” he said. “If you think that makes you less beautiful, I must not be looking with the same eyes.”

“They used to be white,” you murmured. “Brilliant. Now they’re…” You didn’t finish.

“Now they’re midnight,” he said, stepping into your space. “Do you know how rare it is to see wings like yours? They don’t whisper. They sing. They hold stories no one else can tell.”

You shook your head, but he took your hand anyway, pulling you toward the mirror.

“I’ll stand beside you. You don’t have to love your reflection yet. But let me teach you how to see it differently.”

His thumb brushed your palm, and he tilted your chin toward the glass—not forcing, just guiding.

“I don’t want the angel you used to be,” he whispered. “I want this one.”

And for once, you didn’t flinch at the reflection.

-------------------

🔥 Baby

You didn’t mean to stay in the training room that long.

The lights had gone out on their own. Your wings ached from staying half-folded for hours, feathers dragging the floor like a spill of ink. You sat with your back against the wall, knees pulled up, halo flickering faint and broken near your shoulder.

When the door creaked open, you didn’t look up.

Baby didn’t say anything.

Just walked in, slow and steady, like his footsteps didn’t want to startle the dark. You expected him to ask something—where you'd been, why you were hiding, if you were ready to come out.

But he didn’t.

He just sat. Cross-legged on the floor beside you, close enough that your shadows blended. No pep talk. No pity.

Eventually, he nudged a bottle of water into your hand. Not forced. Not rushed. Just there.

“I couldn’t sing today,” you murmured, voice hoarse.

“I know.”

Silence again. The kind that didn’t pressure you to fill it.

When your wings sagged sideways and brushed his arm, you tensed automatically—but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. He simply leaned a little closer, enough for the tips of your feathers to rest lightly against his shoulder.

And still, he said nothing.

But somehow, that was everything.

-------------------

M-List

[thatonegrimm]

Can we get a Saja boys (separate) x reader where the reader is really scared of storms. Like hearing or thinking they hear tornado sirens and immediately starting to hyperventilate. Maybe even hiding on the floor in the closet because there's no basement to hide in and thERES A TORNADO. For uh. No particular reason. Not at all. Thanks.

🍬 Gum anon

Thank you for the request! I know people who do the exact same thing. Here you go!💌

🌙 Saja Boys x Reader – Storm Shelter

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🧿 Jinu 

You didn’t even hear him call your name at first.

The sirens had started barely thirty seconds ago and you were already curled up on the floor of the hallway closet, knees hugged to your chest, breathing sharp and ragged against your sleeves. The coats hanging above you swayed like bodies. You tried not to think about it. You tried not to imagine glass shattering or roofs being ripped away.

You didn't notice the footsteps until the door creaked open and Jinu knelt slowly in front of you.

“Oh—hey, hey, no no no. It’s okay,” he said instantly, voice dropping to that gentle hush he used around baby animals. “You're here. I'm here. Okay?”

You couldn’t really speak. You shook your head and choked on a sob. Your arms were trembling too hard to stop.

Jinu immediately slid inside the closet with you, shutting the door behind him. It was a tight fit. The air was warm with panic. He didn’t touch you at first—just let his presence sink in like a lighthouse beam.

“They said it was rotation, not touchdown,” he murmured, watching your eyes. “Just a warning. But you don’t have to be okay with that. You don’t. I’ll stay with you no matter what.”

You gasped again, louder this time. Jinu reached out then, slowly wrapping both arms around you and guiding you into his lap. His chin tucked over your shoulder. His breath slowed first—so yours could follow.

“Count with me. Five in, hold. Seven out. Good. That’s it. You're not alone. Not now, not ever.”

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💪 Abby 

The lights flickered and went out completely.

You barely had time to react before the warning sirens kicked in, that dreadful mechanical wail echoing across the sky like a horror movie reel. You froze halfway through the hallway, panic already punching through your ribs.

“I need—I need to hide—I need somewhere low, somewhere—Abby?!” your voice cracked.

He found you first.

Abby came tearing down the hallway barefoot, phone flashlight bobbing. The moment he saw your face, his entire body softened. “Hey, hey—breathe for me, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“There’s no basement,” you choked. “What if it hits—what if—”

“Then we use what we’ve got,” Abby said firmly. “Closet. Middle of the house. Go.”

You ran ahead, hyperventilating, and crumpled into the closet before he even shut the door. Your hands shook so badly you couldn’t even hold your phone. The sirens felt like they were inside your skull.

Abby got on the floor beside you without hesitation. “Look at me,” he said. “I’ve been through demon battles, real bloody ones—and you know what scared me the most?”

You shook your head, barely holding eye contact.

“Losing you,” he said simply. “So nothing’s gonna take you from me. Not even a damn tornado. You’re safe. With me, always.”

He pulled your hands to his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Real.

“This house? Might shake,” he muttered. “But if a twister wants you, it’s gotta go through me first.”

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📚 Mystery 

You couldn’t stop crying.

It wasn’t loud—not sobs—but the silent kind that just wouldn’t stop. Your lungs ached. Your eyes blurred. You were crouched at the back of your closet, hugging an old laundry basket like a life raft while the world outside howled with wind and rising sirens.

You didn’t know when Mystery arrived. You didn’t hear him. But you felt him—shadow slipping in as quietly as a breeze, the closet door shutting with a soft click.

Then he was beside you. No shoes, no sound. Just his hand reaching out gently.

He didn’t ask what was wrong. He didn’t make you explain.

He just leaned against you with his shoulder, his body warm, solid, anchoring.

You whispered finally, “I know it’s stupid, I know—”

He shook his head once. One slow blink. Then reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a battered paperback novel—the one you liked rereading when you couldn’t sleep.

“Read it to me,” he said.

“What?”

“Even just a paragraph,” Mystery said. “Your voice is steadier than mine.”

That was a lie, but it made you laugh—a little, broken sound.

And so, with shaking fingers and wind screaming beyond the walls, you read out loud from chapter one. Mystery listened like it was gospel. He stayed pressed against your side the whole time.

----------------------

💋 Romance 

Romance was mid-panic himself when he found you.

“Okay, first of all—rude of the universe to do this with zero warning,” he muttered, throwing open every closet door like he was searching for Narnia. “Second of all—my love, where are you—oh!”

You were curled into a trembling ball in the coat closet, eyes wide, mouth open like you were trying to breathe through a straw. Romance dropped to his knees instantly.

“Sweetheart—no, no no—okay, that’s it. You’re getting held. Right now.”

He hauled you gently, but insistently, into his arms, sitting back against the wall with you in his lap, legs tangled, coats falling over your heads like a canopy. His hands cradled your cheeks like he could mold safety into your skin.

“Shh. Don’t think. Just listen to my voice. Just my voice, okay? You don’t even have to respond. Just stay right here and let me adore you for a second.”

You gasped again—sharp, gulping air.

Romance kissed your temple. Then your shoulder. Then your hand. “Do you feel how warm you are? How real? You’re not going anywhere. This storm’s gonna pass, and I’m gonna take you out for ice cream like nothing happened.”

“But what if it hits—”

“Then I’ll be the most glamorous pile of tornado rubble you’ve ever seen, holding your hand all the way through it. I swear.”

----------------------

🔥 Baby 

The wind outside was howling.

Your phone buzzed again: TORNADO WARNING. TAKE SHELTER NOW.

You dropped the phone.

Then you dropped to your knees.

Baby found you in the coat closet less than a minute later, chest heaving like you couldn’t find air. You barely noticed him at first. But he noticed everything—the way your eyes darted, the scrapes on your knuckles from crawling too fast, the way you flinched at every gust of wind.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just knelt.

Then he crawled all the way in and shut the door.

“I used to get like this,” he said after a pause. “Whenever the fire messengers ran. Back when I couldn’t tell if it was a drill… or something real.”

You blinked. He met your eyes.

“You’re not weak. You’re not dramatic. You’re just human,” Baby said, tapping your forehead. “And this world? Sucks sometimes.”

You gave a watery laugh, then whimpered when the siren wailed again.

Baby slid behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. “Let’s sit. Right here. The floor's dumb but I’ve got you.”

You leaned into him.

He whispered, “If this house tries to fall apart, I’m dragging you into the bathtub with a mattress on our heads like a cartoon. Deal?”

You nodded.

“Cool. And after? You pick the snacks and the dumbest movie imaginable. I’m thinking…Sharknado. Fitting, right?”

----------------------

M-List

[thatonegrimm]

Ok everyone, I’m not feeling great today, so I only managed to get out one story before realizing I couldn’t continue. Hopefully, I’ll feel better tomorrow and can catch up with all of you in the inbox then if not I will Monday. Hope everyone's having a good weekend!

[thatonegrimm]

Greetings!!!!

May I request a one-shot with Baby, where the reader(who's part of Huntrix) gets severely injured during a mission and left behind due to(idk) reasons

Like, enemies to lovers kind of trope

...I have a vision... that I may or may not have conjured at 5 am while listening to music...-

- 🦇anon

Thank you for the request! I had an absolute blast writing this. Here you go!💌

Kindling Sparks 

Summary: When a mission goes sideways, you’re left behind—wounded, alone, and convinced no one’s coming back. But Baby shows up, just as frustrating and smug as ever, dragging tension and fire in his wake.

----------------------

The rain had long since stopped, but the blood hadn’t.

You blinked blearily up at the ruined temple ceiling, wondering if the pounding in your skull was from the collapse or your body trying to give up on you.

Somewhere off in the distance, the comms crackled uselessly.

“Huntrix regroup at point Gamma. Gamma, copy?”

Static. Then silence.

You tried to sit up and failed. Your ribs burned, and your leg wouldn’t move—not crushed, but definitely broken. All that training, and what got you was a splintered floorboard and a missed leap.

You laughed bitterly to yourself. “What a joke.”

The mission had been a setup from the start—too many demons, not enough backup. Your team had split to draw attention, and Huntrix had trusted that everyone would make it back.

Only you didn’t.

----------------------

There was movement at the edge of the broken hall—crunch of gravel, faint hiss of steam rising from scorched ground. You tensed, hand fumbling toward your dagger.

But then you saw the silhouette.

Not just a demon.

Worse.

Him.

“Seriously?” you rasped. “You?”

Baby stepped into the fractured light, blood on his knuckles and soot on his shirt. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” You leaned back on your elbows, trying not to pass out. “You here to gloat or kick me while I’m down?”

He didn't answer right away. Just stared.

Then: “The others left already.”

“I figured,” you muttered. “Guess they didn’t notice I was missing.”

His jaw tightened, something unreadable in his eyes. “Or they figured you were already dead.”

That stung more than it should’ve.

You looked away. “Why are you here, Baby? Go back to your little demon frat. I don’t need saving.”

“I’m not here to save you,” he snapped. “I’m here to make sure you don’t turn into demon bait and mess up the ecosystem.”

You gave him a flat look. “Touching.”

He crouched beside you anyway. His hand hovered over your thigh. “Bone’s not through the skin, but it’s close.”

“Wait—don’t touch—!”

Your body jolted as pressure flared over the injury. His touch was rough but focused—digging through pain, bracing the break, binding it fast with whatever strips he had. It wasn’t healing, not really. But it was enough to hold you together.

You bit down on your own scream and dug your nails into the dirt. “You—son of a bitch—”

He exhaled. “There. You’ll still need a splint, but now you won’t bleed out like an idiot.”

You slumped back, breathing hard. “Don’t expect a thank-you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t want one.”

But he stayed. Even after you closed your eyes. Even after the pain swallowed everything else.

----------------------

When you came to again, it was darker, quieter. A makeshift fire glowed a few feet away, tucked carefully into a circle of broken stone. It cast long shadows on the walls, flickering like ghosts.

You blinked and turned your head.

Baby was still there.

Sitting a few feet away with his knees drawn up, absentmindedly clicking a dented lighter open and shut—open, flick, click, shut. Over and over like a nervous habit.

“Didn’t know demons could make campfires,” you rasped.

“Didn’t know hunters could bleed that much and still talk shit,” he muttered.

You let out a weak scoff. “Yeah? Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t bite back. Just stood and walked over, holding out a cracked water bottle. You eyed it suspiciously.

“Not poisoned,” he said. “I’d use something more creative if I wanted you dead.”

“Oh good,” you muttered, taking it and sipping. “Did you rehearse that line or are you just naturally insufferable?”

Baby crouched beside you again. “Are you always like this?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Like what?”

“Hostile. Ungrateful. Pissy.”

You bared your teeth in something that might’ve passed for a grin. “Only around you.”

“Funny,” he muttered. “I’m the only reason you’re not demon chow right now.”

You stared at him. “You want a medal? A sticker? ‘I helped the wounded girl and only insulted her five times’?”

He stared back, firelight flickering across his face, eyes sharp as ever. “No. I want you to stop acting like I left you behind.”

Your breath caught.

He went quiet too. Then: “I was in the area. I saw the temple collapsing. You think I wouldn’t come check?”

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I know.”

The silence stretched.

Baby stood and dragged over a beam of wood, setting it like a brace next to your leg. “Hold still.”

“I swear, if you burn me—”

“I won’t,” he said. His voice was lower now. Less sharp. “Let me.”

You didn’t stop him.

He re-wrapped the leg with surprisingly competent hands, using your torn sleeve as another makeshift binding. When he was done, he leaned back with a grunt and looked away.

“Thanks,” you said before you could stop yourself.

His brows shot up. “What was that?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you snapped, face hot. “It’s dark. You misheard me.”

Baby laughed—actual, full-on laughed. It was low and mean and completely delighted.

“Wow,” he said. “You really can’t stand me, huh?”

You groaned. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But something in the air had changed—less acidic, more smoke and tension and that awful charged awareness. You were very aware of his knees brushing yours. His shadow overlapping yours in the firelight.

You looked away first.

He didn’t.

----------------------

You woke up at dawn to the sound of something cracking.

“Relax,” Baby muttered before you could grab your dagger. “It’s just wood. Fire’s out.”

You shifted. The stiffness in your leg was worse. Everything ached like you’d been beaten with a truck and then run over for good measure.

But he was still there. Sitting near the ashes, picking absentmindedly at the edge of his shirt sleeve.

“How long was I out?”

“Couple hours.”

“You could’ve left.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But I didn’t.”

You swallowed and looked away.

He stood without a word and held out a hand. "Come on, let’s get out of here."

The walk out of the ruins was slow, painful, and full of bickering.

“You’re limping wrong,” he said.

“I’m limping because I have a broken leg.”

“And somehow still dramatic about it.”

You hissed through your teeth and elbowed him in the ribs. “And you’re smug about it!”

He laughed again—because of course he did—and you hated the way it made your chest twist.

You hated the way he kept walking at your pace, never ahead.

You hated how he offered you his arm without a word when the incline got steep.

You hated how steady he was.

----------------------

You both crested the final ridge around midday, the trees opening up to a hazy view of the city skyline in the distance. Safety. Contact range. Signal bars.

You let out a long breath, pain and tension and adrenaline finally giving way to something you weren’t sure you could name.

You turned to him. “This doesn’t change anything, you know.”

He raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“I still don’t like you.”

He took a step closer, tension sharp in his eyes like a match about to strike. “Sure.”

“And we’re not friends.”

“Definitely not.”

“And if you ever tell anyone I needed help—”

He cut you off.

With a kiss.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was like everything else with Baby—hot, biting, stubborn as hell. His mouth was rough with heat and grit and frustration and god, you hated him.

You kissed him back anyway.

Because he came back for you.

Because he stayed.

Because deep down you knew the others had left you thinking you wouldn’t make it—but not him.

When he pulled away, both of you were breathless, close enough to touch foreheads if you wanted.

You didn’t pull back.

He didn’t either.

“…Still hate you,” you murmured.

His lips curved. “Sure you do.”

----------------------

M-List

Taglist: @honey-and-sweetdreams @lyunsafebubble @reixtsu @ghostiiess @kpopmultistans @viktor-enjoyer @ash-creationz

[thatonegrimm]

Bzzz 🐝 hey it's still me 🐝🐝 here's my second request 🐝🐝🐝

Okay so. Stupid idea I giggled about yesterday at 3am. Polysaja x reader, right? And reader is in a silly mood, coming up with names for this strange thing they got going on.

"Ah yes. Just me, myself, and my five lovers. My Herd of Husbands. My Pride of Partners. Make way for my Circle of concubines."

And it just doesn't stop. I have a few more but I think the most ridiculously fitting is the Congregation of Cucks. You're welcome.

Thank you for the request! Your ideas were so funny that i had to use them lol. Here you go!💌

🌙Saja Boys — The Naming of Boyfriends

-----------------

It started with a perfectly innocent couch sprawl and a few too many metaphors.

You were lying upside down on the couch, feet hooked over the back cushions, head dangling off the edge. Jinu had long since learned not to question your blood circulation decisions, but your words—your words still stopped him cold.

"Me and my Pride of Partners," you said wistfully, eyes unfocused like a noblewoman mourning a war long lost. “My Loyal Legion. My Brood.”

Jinu froze in place at the kitchen counter. “Your... your what?”

“My Brood,” you repeated with regal confidence, reaching dramatically toward the ceiling. “Because truly, what else could I call you five? We nest. We bond. You all look vaguely like you'd kill someone for me.”

Jinu blinked. “I—thank you?”

He tried to walk away, but you kept going.

“My Fellowship of Fiancés. My Bridal Battalion.”

“You haven’t even proposed to us,” he pointed out, grabbing a cup of tea like that might protect him.

“Minor detail,” you said, still upside down. “The vibe is there.”

-----------------

And somehow, the delusion only grew stronger when you migrated to the floor with Abby.

The both of you were cuddled under a blanket, your head on his thigh while he meticulously peeled an orange. The TV played in the background—something educational about wildlife.

You sat up suddenly. “Hey Abby.”

“Mmh?”

“If we were lions,” you said, eyes twinkling, “you’d totally be part of my pride.”

He paused mid-peel. “Like… ‘Pride’ pride? Of lions?”

You nodded. “Exactly. I’d be the head lioness. The rest of you are like, my hot mates who hang around and fight jackals for me.”

Abby tried very hard not to laugh. “So Jinu is a lion?”

“Jinu is a scruffy desert-dwelling scholar lion. Mystery’s the spooky one who just appears and disappears. Baby’s the young one trying to fight everything. Romance is the flashy, flirty lion who pretends not to care.”

“And me?”

“You’re the tank. You take down buffalo.”

Abby gave up and laughed, orange slice halfway to his mouth. “You’re so weird,” he said affectionately. “I love you.”

“I love my Pride,” you declared, arms wide. “My Fearsome Furries.”

“You’re banned.”

-----------------

Of course, things escalated further once you had a captive Mystery, who was lying on your lap while you braided his hair, half-dozing, catlike and quiet.

“Hey Mystery.”

A soft hum. That was his version of ‘yes?’

“I’ve decided I need a collective noun for all of you.”

Another pause.

“I’ve tried herd, flock, pack, squad. But none of them feel right, you know?”

He opened one eye.

You grinned. “How do you feel about… a Congregation of Cucks?”

He stared.

You beamed.

His gaze narrowed.

“I just think it’s funny,” you said, continuing to braid his hair like you hadn’t just detonated a verbal bomb. “Because none of you are cucks, obviously. Except maybe Romance when I flirt with the barista. But it’s the irony that sells it.”

Mystery slowly pulled your blanket over his face and vanished beneath it.

“Come on,” you cooed, tugging the edge. “Don’t hide. My Little Cuckling.”

A muffled grunt emerged.

You weren’t sure, but it might’ve been laughter.

-----------------

By the time you were in front of the mirror with Romance, the naming spree had developed a dangerous momentum.

He was in the middle of curling your hair when you peeked at him through the mirror.

“Hey,” you said sweetly. “Question.”

“Anything for you, darling.” He tilted your chin gently to reach a new section.

“What do you think of being part of my Reverse Harem?”

He blinked. “I… would say that feels fairly accurate.”

You snorted. “No hesitation?”

He gave you a knowing smile in the mirror. “Well. I’m beautiful, mysterious, loyal, and dramatic. All the qualifications are met. As long as I’m the favorite—”

“I was thinking you’re more like the comic relief,” you said with a straight face.

He stopped mid-curl. “Excuse me?”

“You know. Every Reverse Harem has the one guy who’s all charm but no rizz. That’s you.”

He dropped the curler.

“You wound me.”

“‘My Cluster of Clowns,’” you said dreamily, putting your hand over your heart. “Led by Romance, the Fool King.”

He looked betrayed. But he still kissed your cheek and kept curling.

-----------------

Baby, of course, only fueled the madness when he didn’t immediately shut it down.

You were both sitting on the kitchen floor, surrounded by snack wrappers. 

“I’ve been thinking,” you said, mouth full.

“Oh no,” Baby muttered.

“Me. Five guys. All vaguely obsessed with me. It’s basically a cult, right?”

He glanced up. “Are you saying you’re the cult leader?”

“Absolutely. I’d look amazing in a long robe. And you all already follow me around like you’re afraid I’ll die if left unattended.”

Baby grinned. “You would die. You ate expired pudding last week.”

“It was still jiggly!”

“That’s not a defense.”

You leaned in close, eyes wide with mock seriousness. “Tell me, Brother Baby… do you have faith in me?”

He stared. “I can’t believe you made me part of your personality-based boyfriend cult.”

“Congregation,” you corrected. “Of Cucks.”

He cackled, nearly snorting marshmallow out his nose.

You leaned back, satisfied. “My work here is done.”

-----------------

Later that night, you gathered them all in the living room and stood on the coffee table with a notepad.

“Ahem,” you began. “After much thought, I’ve narrowed it down to the top candidates for our official group title.”

Five demon boyfriends stared at you with varying levels of interest and dread.

You cleared your throat.

“A Pride of Partners.” “My Bridal Battalion.” “The Reverse Harem Dream Team.” “The Brood.” “The Fellowship of Fiancés.” “Circle of Concubines.” “Cluster of Clowns.” “Congregation of Cucks.” “Poly Pocket.” (you winked here)

There was a long silence.

Romance applauded you.

Abby held up a sign that just said “please stop.”

Jinu whispered to himself, “We need a PR team.”

Mystery vanished halfway through the list.

Baby was already making a banner that said Congregation of Cucks '25: One Braincell, Five Demons, Infinite Problems.

“Perfect,” you said brightly. “Unanimous vote. Welcome to the Congregation.”

-----------------

M-List

Taglist: @honey-and-sweetdreams @lyunsafebubble @reixtsu @ghostiiess @kpopmultistans @viktor-enjoyer @ash-creationz

[thatonegrimm]

📬Mass Response 15:

⭐— I meant to watch alien stage when I was writing one of my fic's but got distracted lol.

@dopeprincesspatrol: You’re officially on it!! Thank you for liking them and asking so sweetly.

@zombiemonroe: I am the estranged one who was kicked out of the fairytale business for making everything a little too.....Feral..... The folklore lives on in keyboard smashes.

🐉 anon —THANK YOU. As revenge at least three of them would mimic your voice like parrots in denial.

✈️—Thank you!!!! That's so sweet❤️

🧣 anon — Not even his birth certificate knows. He’s just Bobby™. However Zoey once called him “Big Bob” and he never recovered.

✨ anon — WELCOME BACK FROM THE VOID!! First of all, 35k??? Damn that's a lot. Also: backing your work up three times is not paranoia, it’s divine wisdom. I read your chapter (yes, I read the whole thing), and honestly?? Amazing! Please drop chapter 2 if you ever feel like it—I’d love to read more.

🫶 Thank you all this definitely made my day, my brain’s just running on fumes and vibes rn.

[thatonegrimm]

Saja boys react to a reader who is half neko 🐱🐱

Thank you for the request! This one was paw-sitively adorable. Here you go!💌

🌙Saja Boys x Neko!Reader

-------------------

🧿 Jinu

You were trying to be discreet.

It wasn’t easy, though—especially when Jinu entered the room and your ears perked straight up like they had a mind of their own.

He froze mid-step.

"...Was that... a twitch?"

You sighed and rubbed your temple. “They do that sometimes. Instinct. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Jinu blinked. “I thought you were wearing, like... cosplay.”

“I’m not.”

He blinked again, slower this time. Then his brain caught up and he practically leapt behind the kitchen counter.

"Wait. You're part what?"

“Neko. Half,” you admitted, flicking your tail idly. “It’s in the family. My mom’s side. It’s not that weird.”

“Oh my god,” Jinu muttered. “That explains so much. Like the time I caught you eating a raw egg with rice and you hissed when I asked if you wanted ketchup—”

“That’s normal,” you argued.

“Not the hissing!”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re scared of a little tail and some teeth?”

“No!” he yelped, straightening up. “I'm not judging! I just—I need to recalibrate my worldview! Give me like, five minutes. Maybe ten.”

You tilted your head at him and let out a slow, challenging purr.

“…Make it fifteen,” Jinu said faintly, ears turning red. “I’m gonna have to rewatch that cat documentary.”

-------------------

💪 Abby

You were curled on the couch with your tail wrapped neatly around your legs, twitching now and then like you were dreaming even while awake.

Abby peeked over from the kitchen, mid-snack.

“…You okay, kitty?”

“I’m fine,” you murmured sleepily.

He padded over, plopped onto the floor in front of you, and propped his chin on the edge of the couch. “You look like my cat used to when she wanted to curl up on someone’s chest.”

You gave him a slow, deliberate blink. “Maybe I do.”

Abby grinned wide and warm. “Well, lucky me.”

He tugged at your wrist. “Come here, then. You want the lap or the full bear hug?”

You hesitated. “You’re not weirded out by the tail?”

“Nah. I think it’s cute. Plus you flick it like a mood ring.”

You gave a startled little trill-laugh, and he lit up.

“There it is again! You do make little noises!”

“Abby—”

“Wait, do you knead blankets? Like this?” He mimed a cat pawing the air. “Oh my god, can I give you catnip tea? Would that work? Is that offensive?”

You collapsed against him, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “Stop. Please.”

But he just wrapped you up in his arms, strong and easy.

“I’m serious, though,” he said. “If you ever wanna curl up somewhere safe, I got you.”

-------------------

📚 Mystery

Mystery was doing his usual: lurking in shadows, pretending he wasn’t watching you. But today, you were on the rooftop railing, tail twitching behind you as you leaned into the breeze.

His gaze dropped once, then again.

“…It moved.”

You turned to look at him. “Yeah, it’s part of me. I don’t control it all the time.”

He studied it like it was alive. “It follows me.”

“It follows movement,” you explained. “And you do teleport in and out of the dark like a suspicious fly.”

He didn’t respond—just kept watching your tail with narrowed eyes.

Then he stepped closer and slowly reached out.

You turned crimson. “If you touch it, I will bite you.”

Mystery paused.

“…Would that be the worst thing?”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you flirting with me or testing if I have rabies?”

“I’m gathering data,” he said simply, crouching to meet your eye level.

You swatted him with your tail. “Creep.”

He caught it, just for a second. “Soft,” he murmured. “Warm.”

Then he let go.

You looked away, ears flattened in embarrassment.

From behind you, he said in a softer voice, “I think it suits you.”

You pretended not to hear—but your tail curled at the tip.

-------------------

💋 Romance

Romance caught you halfway through pulling a hoodie up to hide your ears.

“Whoa, whoa, stop.” He grabbed your wrist with one hand and plucked the hood back down with the other. “What are you doing?!”

“…Covering them?”

“But why?!” He looked genuinely offended. “They’re adorable. I’ve been waiting for the right time to ask about them, but this—this is slander to the aesthetic.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s... cute?”

“I think it’s criminal that you’ve been hiding them from me this whole time,” he said dramatically. “Do they wiggle? Wait—do they flatten when you’re mad? Are they sensitive? Oh my god, is the tail prehensile?”

You flicked it across his chest in warning. “Back off.”

He gasped. “Whipped.” He clutched his chest. “You whipped me.”

“I grazed you.”

“And I will never recover.”

You started walking off but he chased after you.

“Wait, let me style your ears like accessories! I can make a whole neko-chic outfit for you. Little bows—”

“No bows.”

“Matching eyeliner?”

“…Maybe.”

He grinned like a cat who caught a bigger cat. “See? That’s the spirit.”

-------------------

🔥 Baby

You yawned wide and stretched your arms over your head, tail flicking behind you lazily. Baby, sitting on the floor near your legs, eyed you like you’d just dropped a plot twist.

“I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You’re not fully human,” he said smugly. “I felt it. I knew there was something weird when I saw you land on all fours that one time.”

You shrugged. “I told you I did gymnastics.”

“No. You pounced. There’s a difference.”

You narrowed your eyes, then smirked. “So what? You scared?”

“No. I’m just annoyed it took me this long to confirm it.”

Baby leaned back on his hands. “You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“I’ve been calling you ‘kitten’ as a joke. Now I’m gonna keep doing it, but mean it.”

You groaned. “You are the worst.”

“You like it.”

“I’ll bite you.”

“Hot.”

You whipped your tail at him, annoyed—but he caught it in one hand and smirked.

“That all you got?” he teased, voice low.

You yanked it back, ears burning.

“I’m just saying,” he added casually, “if you ever feel like curling up somewhere warm… I run hot.”

You didn’t respond, but your tail gave a single flick toward him as you walked away.

His grin widened.

-------------------

M-List

[thatonegrimm]

hmmm. perhaps a reader that just. makes a lot of odd noises. birdlike trill-coo when happy. despairing cat yowl when inconvenienced. "...wah >:(" when inanimate objects don't work quite right. "disgruntled duck getting kicked across a football field" when startled (yes that is an exact phrase used to describe a noise i have made. ... it's accurate). window squeegee/hyena laugh. etc lol

Thank you for the request! This was honestly the highlight of my day. Here you go! 💌

🌙Saja Boys x Reader — Makes Weird Noises

--------------------

🧿 Jinu 

You let out a small, satisfied trill as you slid into the booth across from Jinu. The café was quiet, with only soft lo-fi playing, but your birdlike coo practically echoed.

Jinu glanced up from the menu and blinked slowly. "...Was that joy?"

"Mm-hmm!" You did it again, the sound lifting at the end like a songbird discovering a new branch.

He nodded solemnly, as if filing it under ‘You Noises: Happy.’ "Cool. I liked that one. Very...fluffy."

You preened slightly—literally, shoulders rising like you had wings. But moments later, your straw refused to puncture the boba cup lid. After three tries and a sideways stab that made the plastic just bend inwards, you let out a full-bodied, “WAH >:(”

Jinu didn’t even flinch. “Do you want me to—?”

You stabbed it with victorious violence. “NO. I’M A MODERN GIRL. I FIGHT MY OWN BATTLES.”

"...Okay. That one was anger, right?"

You raised an eyebrow. “Disappointment. With a betrayal undertone.”

He nodded again, jotting something in the margin of his lyric notebook. You peeked.

Under your name, he’d written:

🐦 = happy 😿 = cup betrayal 🦆💥 = ??

You didn’t even want to ask what the last one was for.

--------------------

💪 Abby

You were reaching for a bowl in the top cabinet when the rice cooker beeped unexpectedly behind you.

Your noise of alarm—somewhere between a goose being stepped on and a demon being exorcised—rattled the spice rack.

Abby dropped the sweet potato he was peeling.

“Sweetie???” He rushed in like the apartment was on fire, only to find you holding the bowl in both hands and looking sheepish. “...Did it bite you?”

“No, it startled me!”

He exhaled deeply, one hand over his heart. “I thought the stove exploded. Or you saw a ghost. Or Mystery.”

“That wasn’t even my worst noise,” you mumbled.

Abby narrowed his eyes, stepping closer with a mock sternness. “Your worst noise would kill a lesser man.”

“I could do the cat yowl.”

“Please don’t,” he said, cupping your face gently and shaking his head. “I love you, but I have fight-or-flight, and I will trip over this table trying to protect you from whatever made that sound.”

You grinned mischievously. “What about the duck one?”

He went pale. “Absolutely not. That’s the one that made Baby scream.”

--------------------

📚 Mystery

You trilled brightly when the vending machine actually gave you two bags of chips instead of one.

Mystery, who had been walking two silent paces behind you, blinked once. Then slowly tilted his head—curious. Not concerned. Not amused. Just...processing.

“Did you...chirp?” he asked after a long pause.

You beamed. “It’s my lucky-noise!”

He considered this in silence.

Then you tried to open the chip bag and it ripped clean down the middle, sending crumbs flying. You made a despairing sound so bone-deep it echoed in the underground parking lot—like a dying cat in an opera.

Mystery crouched instantly. “Was that...pain? Are you hurt?”

“No,” you muttered, holding up the carnage. “Just...snack loss.”

Another beat. “Do you always do that when food dies?”

You gave a solemn nod.

He held your wrist gently, lips twitching. “Okay. I think I like the chip bag death wail. But only in parking garages. Good acoustics.”

You laughed—an unholy noise that sounded like a window squeegee in a wind tunnel crossed with a hyena. Mystery went completely still. Like a wild animal trying to decide if the bush was laughing at him.

Eventually he said, "...You are fascinating."

And somehow that felt like the highest compliment in the world.

--------------------

💋 Romance 

“WAH >:(”

Romance looked up from the vanity mirror with faux-horror. “Oh no! Not the cup again?”

You held the makeup compact upside down and shook it. Nothing came out. “It’s EMPTY but it LOOKED full. This is betrayal. This is war.”

Romance dramatically gasped and echoed, “Wah >:(” with a flourish of his hands and a fluttery spin. “Was that good?”

You tried to look unimpressed but your squeegee laugh escaped you like a breaking kettle. “I hate you,” you wheezed.

“Nooo, you wah-love me,” he teased, scooting close and nuzzling your shoulder. “Make the bird noise. C’mon. Give me the coo.”

You made it, soft and pleased and gentle, almost reflexively.

He gasped again—faux-swooning this time. “There it is! You’re like a romantic pigeon. My dove. My feathered angel of mood sound effects.”

“I’m gonna make the duck one next.”

He paused mid-swoon. “...Wait. Is that the one that sounds like a mallard got drop-kicked into a pond?”

You nodded slowly, smiling.

He put his hands up like he was backing away from a bomb. “Nope. That one’s cursed. That one scared Abby into prayer.”

--------------------

🔥 Baby 

You tripped over the corner of the rug and made The Noise™.

The disgruntled duck. The yelping-squawk-gasp that echoed off the walls and made nearby dogs bark.

Baby froze mid-sip of his boba, lower lip trembling.

“...That was the duck, huh?” he said slowly.

You groaned into the floor. “Yes. The stupid rug tried to end me.”

He nodded solemnly. “A tragic betrayal.”

You pushed yourself upright and glared. “Why aren’t you helping me up?”

“I’m emotionally processing,” he said, and then immediately burst into laughter—the kind of laugh that made him curl in half and slap the couch. “You made the noise. Like, the whole noise. I thought you were doing a bit. Are you okay??”

You sat up and pouted. “You’re supposed to protect me.”

“I am protecting you,” he wheezed. “I’m protecting your right to be the funniest human alive.”

You made a low growl in your throat—something new.

He paused. “Wait. What’s that one mean?”

“Baby. It means I’m gonna tackle you.”

He didn’t even run. He just screamed and said, “DO THE BIRD NOISE FIRST.”

--------------------

M-List

[thatonegrimm]

Ok I’ve been insanely busy today but still managed to get a fic out (YAY) — barely have time to write this (not so yay). I updated the schedule to fit a little better, so there’s that at least. I’ll try to carve out some time tomorrow or Thursday to respond to y’all in the inbox. Hopefully college decides to chill for a bit so I can lol.

[thatonegrimm]

Reader who prefers rap music over anything else and instead of listening to their whole songs they just listen to the rap parts, cue four of them being offended at this betrayal of their partner and baby being smug af either that or they prefer the verses of a different saja boy to their partner. Like if they’re dating Jinu but prefers Abby’s lines and such

(Fun fact the 5 ideas turned to 6 over night but I managed to combine two of them and I’ll send them next time requests open lol)

🐉

Thank you for the request! Am I imagining this being about the songs we didn’t get? Absolutely. Also I couldn't help myself when it came to Baby’s part lol. Here you go! 💌

🌙 Saja Boys x Reader — When You Like Someone Else’s Lines More

-----------------

🧿 Jinu

You were curled up on the couch, headphones in, mouthing along to a verse you clearly knew by heart. Jinu walked in holding a mug of tea, ready to be his usual thoughtful self—until he caught what part you were vibing to.

“Is that... Abby’s part?”

You blinked up. “Oh—yeah. It’s just this one part I love. Ugh, it hits every time.”

Jinu paused, blinking. “That’s the only part you listen to?”

“I mean, yeah. I loop it a lot.”

He sat down beside you slowly, like you’d physically pushed him. “I’m on that track too, y’know. Multiple times.”

You smiled brightly. “Yeah, and you sound so serene. Very… comforting.”

“Comforting,” he muttered, sipping his tea with an air of despair. “So not... spine-tingling or earth-shaking like Mr. Biceps over there.”

You patted his leg. “You’re my favorite in a cozy way.”

“That sounds like something you say to an armchair.”

-----------------

💪 Abby 

He was mid-crunch when he heard the song playing from your phone. At first, he was grinning—until you hit the skip button right as his part began.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, rolling up to sit. “Did you just skip me?”

You didn’t even pretend to be innocent. “I’m just obsessed with Mystery’s part. He sounds like he’s whispering from the underworld or something.”

Abby stared. “But my verse had, like, layers. Flow, rhythm, emotional grit. The vocal fry!”

“I know, and you were amazing, babe,” you said, ruffling his hair like that would fix it. “But Mystery just has this mood. It’s like he’s a siren singing through fog.”

Abby blinked. “I have fog. Internal fog.”

“Not siren fog.”

He crossed his arms and muttered, “This is how people get possessed.”

-----------------

📚 Mystery

Mystery leaned silently against the doorframe as you danced around the room, headphones in, mouthing the words to a verse that was very much not his.

When you finally noticed him, he simply said, “Interesting choice.”

You tugged out one earbud. “What?”

“You skipped me,” he replied calmly. “Twice.”

“Oh. Yeah. But Romance’s part is so catchy! The way he plays with rhythm and adds those breathy layers? It’s like… velvet.”

He said nothing.

“I still love your part, it’s just more… intense. Yours feels like it’s written in riddles.”

“I like riddles,” he said flatly.

“I know.”

“I thought you liked them too.”

“I do! Just… sometimes I want vibes, not puzzles.”

Mystery gave you a slow blink, then turned and walked down the hall without a word.

You shouted after him, “Don’t go write a diss track about me!”

-----------------

💋 Romance 

Romance caught you mouthing a familiar verse—familiar because it wasn’t his.

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, stepping in dramatically. “Is that who I think it is?”

You paused the track. “Uh. Yes?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Let me get this straight. You, my loving partner, are sitting here swooning over Baby’s one-minute heat burst?”

“It’s intense! He’s got this raw fire in his voice, like he's ready to punch the beat.”

Romance looked personally offended. “I wrote my verse in iambic pentameter.”

“…Is that a flex?”

“Yes.”

You smiled sheepishly. “But Baby’s just got that… chaos swag.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “You used to call me the chaotic one.”

“You still are! You’re just more… elegant chaos.”

Romance exhaled like a disappointed theater teacher. “Next track, I’m growling. No metaphors. Just threats.”

-----------------

🔥 Baby 

You were happily skipping through your self-curated Saja playlist when Baby strolled by and caught a glimpse of the tracklist.

“Wow,” he snorted. “You just cut everyone else out, huh?”

You looked up. “What? No—I’m just into the rap parts.”

He leaned over your shoulder, eyebrows climbing higher and higher. “This is literally just the bridge and rap sections of every song.”

“I like the energy!”

He pointed at the screen. “You cut Jinu’s vocals out mid-syllable.”

“I was in a rush.”

“You muted Romance’s high note.”

“He was being too dramatic!”

“And Abby?”

You hesitated. “His part had a lot of background yelling. I got tired.”

Baby folded his arms, grinning like he just found out he won a bet. “So basically, I’m your ideal Saja Boy.”

“Don’t be smug.”

“You literally titled this playlist ‘Rap Only.’”

“…I said don’t be smug.”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of my own verse playing on loop,” he sang, slipping your headphones on and grinning as his own voice blasted back.

-----------------

M-List

[thatonegrimm]

Helloo, I have a weird but specific question. If it's too weird, you can just ignore this.

If the Saja boys have a cafe date with the reader, what would their food and drink order be?

Or generally what their favorite food and drink is, in your opinion.

I needed some opinions for my story, so I'm asking you, along with other authors

Thank you, have a good day/night

Hi! Not weird at all — usually I wouldn’t do this kind of ask at the moment, but I’m answering since you mentioned it’s for your story. Thanks for including me, and I hope these help!

Jinu – Herbal tea. He’ll get a seasonal pastry. Abby – Iced latte with extra syrup. Ham and cheese croissant or egg sandwich. Mystery – Black coffee and something plain like shortbread. Romance – Rotates between the trendy drinks. Will split a slice of cake with you. Baby – Most sugary frappuccino possible and a giant chocolate muffin.

[thatonegrimm]

Your portrayal of Abby as the golden retriever boyfriend is S-tier, I am in love istg. Baby Saja is like a cat that keeps showing you its belly, and you keep petting it even though you know it's a trap /pos

sincerely, 🃏

I’m wheezing at the belly trap Baby comparison because YES. He absolutely gives you that “what, you thought I wouldn’t bite?” energy. And Abby really is the golden retriever boyfriend, always ready to carry your groceries.