Brainrot Central

About Me

💗 Bibi

🌺 21 | she/her

🩸 No fixed fandom. Just whatever interests me.

💌 Requests are CLOSED

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Tags: gn!reader, established relationship, fluff, comedy, short!reader, playful flirting, kabedon attempt

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Jinu

You dart in front of him as he’s heading toward the kitchen, planting your hand against the wall right beside his shoulder. He stops short, eyebrows lifting, a faint smile already tugging at his lips. You bite your lip, trying to look daring, but Jinu only chuckles under his breath.

“You really think you can stop me with that?” His voice is smooth, teasing, like he’s humoring a child’s game. He leans a little closer, enough that you catch the warmth of his breath. “You’re lucky I don’t need snacks that badly.”

With that, he slides past you easily, barely brushing your shoulder, his smirk lingering like he’s already won whatever game you thought you were playing.

Romance

The moment you block him against the wall, he clutches his chest like he has been struck. “Oh no,” he gasps, sliding down the wall theatrically, “the short one has cornered me… what ever shall I do?” You roll your eyes, but his grin widens when you bite your lip at him.

He grabs your wrist, pulls you in close, and leans until your breath catches. “That little move you just pulled?” His voice drops, teasing yet sharp. “It was adorable.” He laughs, but you feel how his pulse has jumped.

Abby

You manage the slam against the wall with surprising force, blocking his path. Abby raises his brows, tilts his head down at you, and smirks like you’ve just challenged him. “What’s this supposed to be?” he drawls, though his eyes are flicking to your lip bite.

When you don’t back down, he steps forward so close you have to crane your neck. “Cute,” he says, brushing a thumb under your chin. “But you’re forgetting I’m taller. I win by default.” 

Mystery

You trap him against the wall, lip caught between your teeth. He stares down, his face unreadable beneath the shadow of his hair. For a moment, it’s intimidating, until you remember you’re the one meant to be intimidating. He exhales, low, almost like he’s swallowing a laugh.

Then, without a word, he shifts and cages you against the wall instead. He leans close enough that your lip bite falters. “Nice try,” he mutters, voice rough. Still, the flush at the tips of his ears betrays him. He definitely wasn’t immune.

Baby

You nearly tiptoe to slam your hand against the wall beside him. He pauses mid-phone scroll, looking down with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” he asks, tone flat, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his lips. You bite your lip at him, dead serious.

For a moment, Baby just stares. Then he snorts, actually laughing. “You can’t even reach my shoulder properly,” he says, stepping aside. But when you grab his sleeve and hold tight, his laughter quiets. He mutters into his hand, hiding his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

Tags: gn!reader, situationship, mutual pining, soft angst

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The café is too loud for how close he is.

Romance doesn’t sit across from you; he takes the seat beside you, thigh pressed into yours, his knee turned toward your body as if that’s where it belongs. He stirs his drink slowly, distractedly. Every so often, his hand drifts toward you, brushing your wrist where it rests against the table. The touches are faint, not enough to register as anything more, but still enough to stay with you.

You could move. You could say something. But the warmth lingers, and you don’t.

It always happens this way. He leans in too close when he wants to whisper something in your ear. He drapes his arm across the back of your chair when someone asks for a photo. He drops his head onto your shoulder whenever he says he’s tired. None of it is explained, and none of it is questioned.

Because the moment you put a name to it, you risk losing it.

The night stretches long, and in the lull of conversation you notice him watching you. Not openly, not for long. Quick glances when he thinks you’re not looking. You catch him sometimes. When you do, he only smirks, shakes his head, and steals food off your plate as if nothing happened.

It should not make your chest ache the way it does.

Later, outside under the streetlights, you walk together. The others are gone. His hand brushes yours once, twice; the third time you wonder if it is deliberate. But he doesn’t hold on. He only tilts his head closer and speaks low.

“You’re quiet tonight.”

You shrug. “Just tired.”

He studies you for a moment as though he wants to press further, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes off his jacket and slips it around your shoulders. The sleeves are too long, the warmth heavy, and it smells faintly like him.

You think about asking him what this means, what you mean. But the words knot in your throat, too heavy to risk breaking whatever this is.

So you walk beside him, your jacket wrapped close, your fingers brushing against him again and again. Touches without a name. For now, that has to be enough.

im so glad you liked it. feral boy would for sure love that kind of thing. his partner definitely wouldnt mind being bitten from time to time for no reason.

Tags: gn!reader, fluff, playful banter, established relationship, domestic vibes, light teasing, morning routine

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The morning light slips lazily through the curtains, warm and golden, filling the room with a soft brightness. Baby is already halfway dressed, tugging a sweater over his head, when you notice the shirt he’s planning to wear. Something about the quiet of the hour—the hush in the air, the way his hair is still mussed from sleep—makes you want to break the calm. So you take the shirt before he can reach for it.

When he turns back around, you’re standing there with the fabric bunched in your hands, a grin tugging at your lips.

“…What are you doing?” His voice is rough from sleep, flat but suspicious.

“Keeping this safe.” You hug the shirt to your chest like it’s something important. “You’ll have to earn it back.”

Baby stares at you, slow and silent, as if he’s still trying to make sense of what’s happening. Then his mouth curves, just enough to give him away.

“You’re really doing this? First thing in the morning?” He steps closer, deliberately, as if he has all the time in the world.

You back away, laughing under your breath, clutching the shirt tighter. “Rules are rules. Hostages don’t just hand themselves over.”

“Oh, so we’re playing games now.” His tone is serious, though his eyes are alive with amusement. He makes a sudden grab, and you dart away, just out of reach. He groans, dragging a hand down his face as though you’ve already exhausted him. Then he moves again, quicker this time. His fingers catch your wrist, firm and warm, tugging you back before you can slip away. You let out a startled sound, twisting in his grip, but he’s already got you pulled against him, his arms tight around your waist.

“Got you,” he says, his voice low near your ear. The sound carries a smugness he doesn’t bother to hide. “Now hand it over.”

You lift the shirt above your head, triumphant. “Nice try.”

He pauses, looks at you, and then lets out a laugh. Not sharp, not mocking; just an easy, low laugh, like he can’t believe you’re really trying this.

“You do realize I’m taller than you, right?” he asks, grinning.

“Doesn’t matter,” you say stubbornly, standing on your toes now, arm stretched high, your balance wobbling.

Baby doesn’t even try right away. He tilts his head, studying you, another laugh threatening at the edge of his mouth. “This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. You really think that’s going to work?”

“Don’t underestimate me,” you reply, breathless.

But he doesn’t even need to try. He reaches up and plucks the shirt straight from your hand; no effort, no struggle. Victory flashes across his face as he holds it up, grinning.

You stare at him, betrayed. “That’s cheating.”

“Life’s unfair,” he says easily, leaning down until his forehead brushes yours. For a moment, the air between you changes, playful but softer now, heavy with affection. “Besides, you’ll just have to distract me again if you want another chance.”

He pulls the shirt on, still holding you against him like he has no intention of letting go.

Tags: gn!reader, fluff, clingy reader

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Jinu

He’s hunched over his notebook, earphones in, muttering lines under his breath. Scribbling lyrics, sketching comeback plans—completely locked in. You lean against his shoulder, whining for attention. Nothing. You press a kiss to his jaw; his pen stalls mid-word.

“Babe…” His voice is half-warning, half-pleading, but you catch the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

You cling tighter, arms draped around his neck. “Just look at me for a second.”

With a sigh, he drops the pen. His hand slides over yours, thumb brushing gently. “You’re impossible.” He turns, finally giving you his full focus. Once you steal a kiss, the lyrics are forgotten.

Romance

He’s leaned back on the couch, typing away on his phone, brows drawn. Serious. Too serious.

You crawl over, deliberately dramatic, and plop your head onto his stomach. He barely spares you a glance.

“You’re heavy.”

“You’re boring,” you shoot back, tilting your head up to grin at him.

He chuckles once but still tries to keep typing—until you start tracing random shapes across his chest with your finger. Circles, stars, little hearts. He twitches.

“Stop that,” he warns.

“Or what?” you tease, your grin widening.

His phone clatters to the coffee table. He rolls you over until you’re pinned beneath him, eyes sparkling. “Or I’ll remind you exactly how distracting you are.”

Abby

He’s mid-stretch, one earbud in, moving through choreography in front of the mirror. You sit off to the side, watching. Then, deciding enough is enough, you waltz up and drape yourself over his back mid-stretch.

“Yah—” He nearly stumbles, grabbing your arms. “What are you doing?!”

“Being a supportive partner,” you say innocently, clinging like a koala.

He scoffs, but his reflection in the mirror is betraying him. He’s trying not to smile. You hook your chin over his shoulder.

“Come on. Dance with me instead.”

He exhales, amused, before pulling you in front of him. “Fine. But if you trip, I’m not catching you.”

Of course, he catches you every single time.

Mystery

He’s organizing boxes, lifting heavy bags like it’s nothing. You trail after him, quiet at first. But then you tug his sleeve once, twice. He doesn’t stop, though his eyes flick toward you.

So you up the ante—looping both arms around his, refusing to let go as he tries to work. He goes still, glances down at you with his usual unreadable expression. For a moment, it seems like he’ll shake you off.

Instead, he sets the box down with a soft thud, straightens, and lets you cling to his arm as he moves to the couch. He sinks down, pulling you with him until you’re basically folded against his chest.

A quiet sigh leaves him, low and resigned. “…Needy.”

But his hand rubs lazy circles against your back, steady and warm, like he doesn’t mind one bit.

Baby

He’s scrolling through something on his phone, jaw set in focus. You edge closer, nudging his arm once. Twice. He shifts away without looking.

“You don’t even miss me?” you pout.

“You’ve been here the whole time,” he mutters, still scrolling.

So you lean in, resting your chin on his shoulder, purposely exhaling against his neck. He stiffens. You smile.

“Annoying.” He finally lowers the phone, glare sharp. But the tips of his ears are pink, and instead of moving you off, he lets you curl against him.

“…Fine. Stay there. Just stop breathing so loud.”

The way his arm curls around your waist after a few seconds betrays him completely.

Saja Boys reacting to Huntr/x flirting with you

Tags: gender neutral reader, jealousy, hidden hostility, subtle possessiveness

It’s so tricky doing this on the phone. My laptop’s at the dorm😭 anyways, have some crumbs

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Jinu

when it’s Rumi: he plays it cool, answering her teasing remarks with that charming leader smile. but the second her back is turned, his jaw clenches. There's bitterness there—half jealousy, half resentment of her “pure” image when she’s fighting demons like him.

when it’s Mira, he’s sharper; his replies coming out clipped. “Interesting. You always talk this much, or just when you’re stealing attention?” he masks it as banter, but the edge is obvious.

When it’s Zoey, he lets her chatter, even smirks at her clumsy compliments, but when she won’t stop, he steps closer to you, brushing your hand lightly. claiming you in silence.

Romance

thrives on it. at least on the surface. Mira batting sarcastic remarks? He leans into it, throwing hearts at her just to rile her up.

He calls her Rumi “noona” in a taunting way, exaggeratedly respectful, all while inching closer to you.

Zoey flustering around you actually makes him annoyed, though. He'll joke, “Careful, she bites,” before swinging an arm over your shoulder with a sly grin that screams back off.

Abby

when Mira tries to flirt, he gives it right back. It turns into this flirt war, both of them tossing quips while you’re stuck in the middle. But once she’s gone, he mutters: “She only wishes she could keep up.”

If it's Rumi, Abby scoffs. He can tell her serious aura is half-test, half-taunt. later, he’ll get cocky, whispering to you: “She’s not your type. I am.”

Zoey’s bubbly attempts just make him laugh, but you can tell that it bothers him. He gets extra touchy with you after.

Mystery

hates it. period. doesn’t matter which girl it is, he stiffens up instantly.

Rumi’s confident flirting is met with silence. stares until she gets uncomfortable.

Mira’s snarkiness makes him snap back, low and quick. the tension between them could slice air.

Zoey’s bubbly persistence gets the weirdest reaction. Mystery literally growls. not at her, but under his breath, like an animal staking territory. you catch it. she probably doesn’t.

Baby

the least reactive on the outside. when Zoey giggles too close, he deadpans: “She’s loud.” but his hand suddenly finds yours. It’s so casual… not.

with Mira, he’s sarcastic. “Wow, you’re really trying hard. Points for effort.” tone flat, eyes glinting sharp.

with Rumi, Baby gets cold. you notice his playful edge vanish. he just watches, unnervingly quiet, until she walks away. later, he mutters, “She thinks she’s better than us. Don’t ever believe that.”

Aww you’re welcome💗 i honestly feel bad that i havent been posting as much anymore. I’ve been anxious over school and have also been trying to put a usage limit on all my devices in preparation for that. I even put a time limit of 30 minutes on tumblr now. I’m making good progress though. I dont even cheat by going on my tablet and laptop 😊 i do miss writing though. I’ll see what i can do during the school year.

Thank you for taking the time to send a message though. Love you sm

Hi! Nope, i dont see ur name in the archives or in the backlogs. Have a nice day💗

Finding the perfect shade of lipstick

Tags: gn!reader, lipstick shopping, public kisses, fluff, light humor, pda

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Jinu

You hold up a tube of soft coral lipstick.

“Alright, don’t move,” you say, stepping closer.

Jinu glances around the store like he’s expecting a camera crew to pop out from behind the shelves.

“Here? Now?” he murmurs, voice low but not low enough to hide the flushness.

“Yes, now. You’re my test subject.”

You swipe the lipstick on your own lips, then lean in for a quick kiss. His shoulders are so tense, you half-expect them to lock in place.

When you pull away, you tilt your head and squint at the color on his skin. “Mm… not the one.”

He exhales sharply—relief, maybe. But he doesn’t stop you when you pull out another shade.

“You’re enjoying this,” you tease, grinning.

“Not in public,” he mutters, eyes still darting around, “but… fine. Just be quick.” 

Still, he stands there for every shade, letting you test them all, ears pink by the end.

Romance

You don’t even have to explain. The moment you dab the tester on your lips, Romance is already leaning in, chin tilted, smirk ready.

“Oh, this is my favorite store now,” he says as you kiss him, hands slipping casually into his pockets.

You pull away, checking the faint mark on his skin. “Hmm… not sure about this one—”

He cuts you off by catching your chin and pulling you in again. “Better try it twice just to be sure.”

By the time you’ve gone through five shades, his cheeks and jaw are peppered with lipstick marks in pinks, reds, and berries. He doesn’t wipe a single one off. If anything, he angles himself so people notice.

“Badges of honor, babe,” he says with a wink. “Let ‘em know I’m taken.”

Abby 

When you tell him your plan, he just smirks.

“So I get kisses and you get makeup? Best deal ever.”

You test the first shade, leaning in and giving him a soft kiss. He pulls back just slightly, looking at the lipstick stain.

“Looks good on me. And you. We’re buying it.”

“But I haven’t even finished testing yet,” you laugh.

He stands patiently while you try more, tilting his head like a willing canvas. Each time you finish, he gives you a nod of approval.

“Add that to the basket. And that one. Oh, that deep red? Definitely that one.”

By the end, he’s already got a small pile of lipsticks in the basket, smug grin in place. “You’re never running out of excuses to kiss me again.”

Mystery

You swipe on a dusty rose shade, looking at Mystery expectantly. He silently leans down, meeting your lips without hesitation.

You study the color against his skin, humming thoughtfully. “Pretty… but not perfect.”

Without a word, Mystery takes the tester from you, caps it, and tucks it neatly back on the display. He’s already holding your bag in one hand and the shopping basket in the other, packed with the other things you’ve picked out. You apply it, he leans in again—still quiet, still patient. There’s something almost gentlemanly about the way he waits for you to decide, even when you take your time.

Baby 

The second you swipe the first lipstick on your lips, Baby’s eyes narrow—not at you, but at a couple of people staring from the next aisle.

“What?” you ask, leaning in.

“Nothing,” he mutters, though his gaze flicks back to the strangers before he finally lets you kiss him. When you pull away to check the color, he groans under his breath.

“Are we done yet?”

“Nope.” You grin, wiping the shade off and applying a new one.

Every kiss after that is followed by another impatient groan, but he still stands there, hands in his pockets, letting you test all the shades on his cheeks. He even subtly shifts to block other people’s view.

By the last shade, his frown softens just enough for him to mumble, “Fine… this one’s good.” But the tips of his ears are pink, and you catch the faintest smile when he thinks you’re not looking.

Caught you reading smut about them

Tags: gn!reader, comedic awkwardness, slightly suggestive, embarassment, teasing, no explicit content

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Jinu

You don’t even notice him at first. You’re too caught up in your phone, scrolling with that blank, hyperfocused expression you get when reading something good. Jinu’s seen it before. He was on his way to ask if you’d eaten yet, but instead he catches a glimpse of your screen. His name is right there, in bold, followed by the words “slams them into the wall” and “whispered huskily into their ear.”

He freezes. His ears go red before his brain can process what he’s reading.

“…Do you—” His voice catches halfway through, which is funny because he’s usually the picture of composure. “…do you want to try that?”

You jump in your seat when he makes his presence known. “What?”

“You’re reading it,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “so I thought maybe you…” He trails off with a small, sheepish smile that makes it worse. Now the scene you were reading feels like it’s pressing up against the edges of reality.

Romance

He spots the familiar AO3 interface on your phone and, being the nosy fox he is, leans over your shoulder without warning. His smirk grows with every sentence his eyes skim the text.

“Ohhh…” His voice drips with fake scandal. “So that’s what you think of me.”

“It’s not you, it’s—”

“—fiction?” he cuts in, still grinning. “Fiction you’re reading about me, baby.” He doesn’t even hide the amusement in his eyes. “You know, I could… give you a live adaptation right now.”

You shove him away, but it’s too late. He’s already memorized a few choice phrases, and you just know he’s going to act them out.

Abby

The smugness hits before the recognition. You’re laughing at a particularly ridiculous line when his shadow falls over you. He peers down, and his grin is so slow and self-satisfied you want to throw your phone out the window.

“Wow. You’ve been holding out on me.”

“It’s not—”

“I knew you liked me, but damn,” he drawls, leaning against the wall. “Guess I really am that irresistible.”

He snatches your phone and spends the next five minutes reading in silence, occasionally letting out a low chuckle and glancing at your flushed face. By the time he hands it back, you’re not sure if you’re more mortified by the story or by the fact he’s looking at you like he plans to make it come true.

Mystery

You hear the sound of someone shifting behind you, but you assume it’s just the wind until you glance up and see him standing there, staring at your screen.

His expression is unreadable for a second, then it morphs into something halfway between shock and horror.

“You…” His voice is low. “Read this?”

“It’s not what it looks like—”

“It looks like you’ve been thinking things,” he says flatly. And then, quieter: “…about me.”

You’ve never seen him flinch away from your gaze before, but now he won’t meet your eyes. He mumbles something about needing air and leaves, and you’re 90% sure you’ve just altered your relationship forever.

Then, hours later, when you’re sure he’s over it, you feel his hand brush yours. Then his knee bumps yours. Then he’s close enough that his breath grazes your ear, murmuring something low and indecipherable. His grin says he caught more from that story than you thought.

Baby

He catches you so quickly, you don’t even have time to close the tab. His grin is instant—wide, bright, and dripping with mischief.

“Oh, this is gold.” He crouches beside you, reading over your shoulder without an ounce of shame. “Spicy, too. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Before you can cover your screen, Baby grabs the phone, holding it over his head where you can’t reach, and starts reading the story aloud. He exaggerates every line, throwing in dramatic pauses and moans, his voice going up an octave whenever he imitates the reader. When you lunge for the phone, he spins away like a playground bully, laughing so hard he almost drops it.

“Aw, don’t be shy now. You fantasize about this stuff, don’t you?” he says, smirking.

You threaten him, but that only makes him louder. By the time he gives you back your phone, he has this infuriating smirk. You’ve just handed him material to torment you with for weeks.

A Moment of Happiness

Tags: gn!reader, minor!reader, negative parental figure, idol/fan interaction, soft angst, hurt/comfort, fansign event

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You had been counting down to this fansign for months. The calendar in your room was crowded with doodles and tiny stars; the date circled three times in marker. You woke up early to get ready, choosing the shirt with their logo. The satchel you packed last night sat by the door, and you checked it one last time before leaving.

The excitement didn’t last through the drive. “Why do we have to go to this stupid thing?” your mother muttered, eyes fixed on the road. “Fine, but be quick about it.” You pressed your forehead to the window and didn’t answer.

Inside, the air was warm and loud; voices overlapped, camera shutters clicked, and somewhere near the front a fan squealed in excitement. People clutched posters, flowers, bracelets threaded with beads, and carefully wrapped sweets. You kept your own poster tucked under your arm, your grip leaving faint wrinkles along its edges.

You inched forward in the line, your mother’s hand pressed firmly to your shoulder. It wasn’t guiding so much as pushing, and her foot tapped a sharp rhythm against the floor. Her fingers tightened. “Come on.” You shuffled forward, holding the beaded bracelets you’d made since the announcement was posted. She sighed as if she had already spent too much time here, her eyes scanning the table like she was trying to figure out what could possibly be taking so long. The boys smiled and waved, reaching for the gifts fans placed before them. You wanted to stay in this moment, but her presence at your back felt like a clock ticking down.

Romance was first. His hair caught the light, styled neatly, his smile warm and a little playful. He took your poster with an easy flourish, signing his name in looping letters. His gaze moved to the bracelet in your hand. “For me?” You nodded, setting it down. He picked it up carefully and slid it onto his wrist, the beads joining the other small gifts he’d been given. “It’s perfect.” You almost smiled until your mother sighed behind you, loud enough to make him glance past your shoulder. The warmth in his face stayed, but his eyes lingered on her for a second too long.

Abby leaned forward as you stepped up. His signature was quick but deliberate, each line clean. You slid the bracelet toward him and his grin widened. “You made these?” “Yeah.” He gave a small nod, like he meant it, and slipped it on at once. “It suits me, no?” The sharp tapping of your mother’s foot grew louder. Abby’s eyes flicked down at the sound, then back to you; his smile softened, as though trying to keep you from looking anywhere else.

Mystery didn’t speak at first. He signed your poster in brisk strokes, hair falling to hide his eyes. You handed him the bracelet and he turned it in his palm before sliding it into his pocket. A small curve of his mouth passed for a smile, and there was a low sound from his throat that might have been approval. You felt your face warm. His eyes lifted past you and his jaw tightened when he caught your mother’s stare.

Baby looked like he could be your age but taller, broader. He smiled wide when you handed him the bracelet, taking it with both hands. His signature curved neatly into the bottom corner of your poster, careful not to touch the others. He twirled the bracelet once before pulling it over his left hand. “Did you make these?” You nodded. “This is so cool. You made one for everyone? That’s awesome.” His voice lowered slightly, almost playful. “They’re gonna be jealous if mine’s the best.” Another breath from behind you—short, sharp. He glanced past your shoulder; his face flattened for a heartbeat before the smile returned.

Jinu was last. He greeted you with a steady “hey” before signing next to the logo on the poster. You placed the final bracelet in front of him, and he didn’t take it right away. He looked at you first. “Thank you,” he said, his voice even. His eyes moved past you, settling briefly on your mother. For a second, the smile faltered before returning, as steady as before. “We’re glad you came.” 

“We’re glad you came.” He meant you, not her.

Your mother’s hand was on your shoulder before you could take a step back. The noise of the room swallowed you both, but you felt the weight of the boys’ eyes still on your back. In your hands was a poster full of names and marks, and the proof that for a few minutes, this day had belonged to you.

ahh thank you so much!! i had a lot of fun balancing the softness with the creep factor. im proud of abby's part, so im happy you enjoyed it.

Catching them in their demon forms

Tags: gn!reader, gaslighting, ambiguous tension

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Jinu

You arrived at the rehearsal space earlier than usual and found Jinu by the window. Or rather, something that looked like Jinu; his skin was pale violet-blue, jagged purple lines running along his jaw and neck, and his bright yellow eyes were fixed on something beyond you. Claws rested against the sill. You blinked; it was gone. He tilted his head, watching you. “What’s wrong?” “I thought I saw something.” “You’ve been working too much; maybe your eyes are playing tricks.” “I know what I saw.” The corners of his mouth lifted just slightly. “Then maybe you should see less.”

Romance

You caught it while he was fixing his hair. His reflection in the mirror didn’t quite match the man standing there; the glass showed him with violet skin marked in jagged lines, yellow eyes locked on intensely.

The flicker passed; he was back in his pressed shirt and fitted coat, hair perfectly in place.

“You look pale,” he said.

“You had—”

“Nothing,” he cut in, his tone light. He turned toward you, an amused look in his eyes. “Mirrors are tricky; they tell you what you expect to see, not what’s really there.”

Abby

It happened in the kitchen. Abby leaned against the counter, then shifted; his skin caught the light in a sudden violet-blue glow, streaked through with deep purple, and when he smiled, fangs showed.

You froze.

A blink later, it was gone. Abby stood where he was, wearing a tight button-down and the same casual grin. “Wow. I’m so hot I make you hallucinate now?”

“Abby.”

“What? Maybe your brain decided to enhance the experience.”

“You had fangs. And… everything else.”

He tapped his temple. “Stress. Drink some water.”

Mystery

You weren’t sure what made you look up. Maybe it was the sudden chill in the hallway; maybe instinct. Mystery stood there, head slightly bowed, bangs shadowing his eyes. Beneath them, a gleam of yellow; his skin tinted blue, patterned like cracked porcelain. His hands flexed, nails long and sharp.

Then it was gone; he was just Mystery again, tugging at the hem of his bright yellow arm warmers.

“You saw something?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t,” he said, his voice steady enough to make you doubt yourself.

Baby

The café was busy, but you spotted him in the corner. The moment the bassline in his headphones swelled, something shifted; his hair fell back just enough to reveal yellow slit-pupil eyes, and his skin caught the light in pale blue with thin violet streaks. His grin showed the faint edge of fangs.

Then it was gone. He was just Baby again, tapping his fingers against the table in time with the music.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “You looked… not like you.”

He smiled faintly. “Guess you’re just imagining things.”

May I request Abby (or all, if you'd prefer!) with an S/O from a visual kei band? I typically prefer tanbi kei (they're typically the more vampire looking ones! Inspired by European culture and have this more regal energy to them) but if you'd like to delve into the other sub genres please do I'm so normal about them I promise 💔💔

— 🦇

In Silk and Powder

Tags: gn!reader, established relationship, visual kei, tanbi kei aesthetics, band setting, reader in band, androgyous beauty.

hello, 🦇 anon!! thank you sm for the support💗 ngl i had to do some extensive research on the style and music, but i think im still pretty ignorant about this whole genre.

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You had told him once, almost in passing, that you were in a band. Abby had pictured something small. Friends in jeans and sneakers, a corner stage in a café, a microphone that cut out from time to time, the sound of milk frothers in the background. 

What he found instead was nothing like that. The minute you passed the guarded door and led him inside the dressing room, it was clear he had stepped into another world.

Your bandmates were already halfway through becoming someone else. A black feather trembled from the weight of a jeweled headpiece as its wearer leaned toward the mirror. Chains caught the warm lights in sudden bursts, breaking into silver fragments. Powder clung to the air, settling in soft fingerprints on the glass before vanishing again. Someone pulled a glove tight. Another reached across to fasten the last ornate button on a velvet coat.

You were still in your own clothes—hoodie, sweatpants, hair pinned up without care—but when you sat at the mirror, Abby saw the change begin. The brush swept across your skin until the light shifted toward you. Eyeliner stretched past the corner of your eye, sharp and deliberate. Your lips deepened into the shade of dark wine, the kind that lingers on the mouth. You freed your hair from its pins and let it fall before shaping it into soft waves that framed your face.

Then came the clothes. Black trousers that traced the line of your legs. A cream silk shirt, its collar open just enough to reveal a pendant. And finally, a velvet coat with gold and crimson embroidery curling down the sleeves.

Abby couldn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he remembered how. He only watched as you fastened a cufflink, adjusted the coat, and glanced at your reflection one last time. You weren’t pretending to be someone else. You were arriving as yourself.

When you turned to him, your smile was small, knowing. “You’re quiet,” you said.

He hesitated before answering. “I thought I knew what you meant when you said ‘band.’ I didn’t.”

You only tilted your head toward the side door. “You’ll see.”

And he did.

From the wings, he watched you step into the light. Every thread and shimmer of you burned against the dark. The crowd reached for you, but for one second, your eyes stayed on him. The crowd reached for you, but your focus stayed anchored for one impossible second, right where he stood.