happy pride month to hongjoong and seonghwa letβs be nonbinary together sometime soon xx

Janaina Medeiros

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ellievsbear

Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Jules of Nature
Sweet Seals For You, Always
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
almost home
styofa doing anything
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if i look back, i am lost
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i don't do bad sauce passes

#extradirty
Stranger Things
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@valleysan
happy pride month to hongjoong and seonghwa letβs be nonbinary together sometime soon xx

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iwasaki's mahitos drive me insane
do I post yeosang, hongjoong, or mahito. let me know fellas
βIβm a vampireβ¦ Thatβs why I donβt breathe right when Iβm near you.β βOh, okay. Right. A vampire. Of courseβ¦ Is your name actually Stefan? Is your brother Damon chilling around the corner in a leather jacket waiting to kill my roommates?β Good news? The gorgeous, mysterious guy youβve been seeing for weeks finally admitted heβs incredibly into you. Bad news? He chose to deliver this confession right after telling you he can hear the blood rushing behind your ears, and you're 90% sure heβs just using supernatural lore to dodge a commitment.
β’ vampire!yunho x human!reader | β’ supernatural au, vampire au, friends to lovers | β’ yunho has a martyr complex, vampire talk, lots of the vampire diaries and twilight references, misunderstanding | β’ 11.6k | β’ okay listen in my defence i love the vampire diaries (team stefan, sorry to disappoint) and i actually cannot believe writing a vampire au never crossed my mind until it came up in my inbox. now that iβve started, iβm afraid youβll be seeing a lot more vampire yunho from me (i say this damn well knowing thereβs vampire yunho smut dusting in my drafts since january π). also... doesnβt the banner photo totally SCREAM vampire yunho? i rest my case. p.s sorry if i totally failed at the comedy.
ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββThe wind didnβt just blow; it knifed through the gap between your scarf and your throat. Beside you, Yunho was doing his best impression of a turtle, hands shoved so deep into his pockets his shoulders were practically touching his ears. It was a ridiculous look for a man who usually moved with the unbothered grace of a runway model, but lately, he seemed determined to make himself as smallβand as gloomyβas the weather. He had this habit of picking the most miserable days to meet. Days where the sky was the colour of a wet sidewalk and the sun was a distant memory. Every time you suggested a bright, crowded cafΓ© or a sunny park, heβd blink at you as if youβd suggested a casual stroll through a nuclear blast site.
βThe sun makes my eyes hurt,β heβd say, his voice as flat and unyielding as a textbook.
The first three times, youβd laughed. By the fifth, youβd stopped looking for a punchline and just started wearing an extra sweater.
βYouβre doing it again,β you muttered, your fingers tightening around the warm paper cup heβd pressed into your hand the second you met, like he always did now. A little ritual that had formed without either of you naming it. A warm drink in your hands. His gaze on your face for half a second too long. Then the careful, practiced looking-away.
βDoing what?β he asked. His eyes flicked to yours, all dark lashes and hidden depths, before he performed his signature moveβthe βcareful, practiced looking-away.β
βBeing... you,β you said, letting the steam from your drink kiss your nose. Cinnamon. He always remembered the extra dash of cinnamon. βYou didnβt have to get this, you know. For the hundredth time.β
βI wanted to,β the words were simple, but they landed in your stomach with a heavy, confusing thud. It was the classic Yunho special: a dash of extreme sweetness followed by a mile-high wall of emotional unavailability. You took a sip of your drink, watching Yunho out of the corner of your eye. His posture had shiftedβshoulders square, jaw tight. He looked like a man who had just decided to jump off a bridge and was now reconsidering the height. βDo you ever...β He started, his Adamβs apple bobbing with a heavy swallow. He paused, his jaw working as he fought with whatever thought was trying to claw its way out. βDo you ever feel like youβre going to say something and itβll change everything? Like thereβs no going back to how it was five seconds ago?β
You slowed your pace, the ripples in your coffee mirroring the sudden tremor in your chest. You tried to laugh, but it came out sounding hollow. βThat sounds like a classic βYunho Thought.β Deep, slightly ominous, and very dramatic.β
βIβm serious.β
βI know,β the silence that followed wasnβt the cozy, βfriends-hanging-outβ kind. It was heavy. It was the kind of silence that pressed against your ribs until it was hard to breathe. You could feel the weight of him beside youβan oddly steady, cold presence that seemed to pull the air toward him. Then, his head snapped to the leftβsharp, predatory, and way too fast. You followed his gaze into the mouth of a narrow, shadow-choked alley. You saw nothing but trash bags and darkness.
βDid you hear that?β he asked, his voice so dropping low it made the hair on your neck stand up.
You held your breath, listening to the distant hum of the city. βHear what? I donβt hear anything, Yun.β He didnβt answer. He just stood there, head tilted, nostrils flaring as if he was trying to catch a scent on the wind. His face was a blank mask, but his body was tense. βYunho? Youβre being weird. Even for you.β He didnβt answer right away. His head tilted at a slight, unnatural angle, eyes narrowing as if he were cataloging a sound on a frequency you couldnβt even perceive. His face remained blank, but his shoulders turned to stone. And thenβso quick it was almost a blurβhis nostrils flared. It wasnβt just breathing, more like catching a scent. A cold knot of unease tightened in your stomach. βEarth to Yunho?β
His eyes snapped back to yours, the focus vanishing so instantly it felt like a lie. He blinked once, slow and deliberate, and when he spoke, his voice had returned to that gentle, melodic liltβthe one that always felt a little too practiced. βSorry. I thought I heardβ¦ something.β
You tried to laugh it off, leaning into the easy sarcasm that usually bridged the gaps between his silences. βYouβre turning into a paranoid old man.β
A ghost of a laugh escaped him, but it died before it reached his eyes. βIβm not paranoid,β he murmured, his gaze dropping. βI justββ He cut himself off, the words seemingly stuck behind his teeth.
Your fingers fidgeted nervously with the lid of your coffee cup. βJust what?β Yunhoβs gaze droppedβnot to your eyes, but to your mouth. It wasn't a casual look; it was as if his eyes had slipped there against his will, drawn by a magnet he was failing to fight. Your throat went tight. For a second, the grey autumn air felt thick and suffocating.
He blinked again, sharper this time, looking startled by his own lapse in control. βNothing.β And thenβbecause he was apparently determined to kill you slowly with unspoken thingsβhe reached out to adjust your scarf. His knuckles brushed the sensitive skin of your neck, and you physically jumped. His hand wasnβt just βchilly.β It was cold. It was the biting, absolute cold of metal left out in a frost. You froze. He stayed still for half a heartbeat, his dark eyes searching your face for a reaction, before he pulled back so abruptly it felt like a slap. βSorry.β
You stared at him, your skin still tingling where heβd touched you. βYour hands are freezing.β
βIβm fine.β
βYouβre literally notββ You stopped. The way he said itβthe tight, vibrating control in his voiceβmade it clear that this wasnβt a conversation he was going to let you win. His jaw worked, a muscle jumping as he looked away toward the street as if the passing traffic held the secrets of the universe.
βIβm justβ¦ not used to the cold weather,β he said finally.
You frowned, gesturing to the grey sky. βYou only hang out on cold days.β
His lips parted, and for one dangerous second, you thought the wall might actually crumble. You could see the truth sitting right behind his eyes. Instead, he swallowed hard. βI should walk you home,β he said, the words coming out too fast, too urgent.
βWeβve been out for ten minutes!β you huffed, checking your phone. 5:43 PM. βItβs barely even dark yet.β
βPlease.β The word came out softer than the rest of him. Quieter. Like he was asking for something he didnβt have the right to ask for.
You stopped. It had been months since heβd asked for your number after you bumped into each other in that coffee shop outside your workplace. Youβd still remember the smell of espresso and wet wool, the little jolt of embarrassment when youβd spilled a few drops on your white sleeve, and the way heβd reached past you to grab napkins with hands that were too pale and too steady. At first you were excited. Youβd been ridiculously excited. Youβd checked your phone too often, thumb hovering over the screen like you could will a notification into existence. Youβd wondered if heβd text, if heβd ask you out, if thereβd be a moment where the story slid into place. But it was never quite did. Youβd hang out. Talk. Walk. Heβd pay for your coffee without making it a thing. Heβd tilt his head when you laughed like he was loving the sound. And then heβd keep his distance like there was an invisible line drawn between you, like he was terrified of crossing it. No lingering touches. No flirting that lasted longer than a breath. No βI missed youβ even when he looked like he had. It got to the point where you stopped calling these meetings dates in your head. You tried to steel yourself. Tried to strip yourself of hope like it was something childish you needed to outgrow.
You swallowed, throat tight from the cold and from the stupid ache of wanting something that wasnβt happening. βWhy do you always do that?β
His gaze snapped to you, and it was so intense it felt like someone had cut the air. For the first time he didnβt look away. βDo what?β
You lifted your cup a little, then lowered it again when you realised your hand was shaking. βYou ask me to hang out and then youββ You made a small, sharp gesture with your fingers, like snipping thread. βYou disappear inside yourself. Youβre right here, but youβre a thousand miles away.β
His jaw worked once. He looked like he was holding something back behind his teeth βI donβt,β he said, but the lie was thin.
You took one step closer. Close enough that you could feel the cold radiating off him againβthat unnatural, metal-left-outside cold that seemed to defy the very laws of biology. The streetlight painted his lashes gold, casting long, dramatic shadows across his high cheekbones. βYou do, and I canβt tell if itβs because you donβt want me like thatβ¦ or because you want me and youβre fighting it so hard itβs killing you.β
Something flickered in his eyesβfast and dark, like a shadow passing over a moon. Yunhoβs hand lifted, hovering near your wrist without touching, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. Like he was asking permission from the air itself. βPlease donβt do that, donβt try to read me.β
βI justββ Your breath fogged between you, thin and shaky. You hated how honest your body was, how it betrayed your vulnerability before you could turn it into a joke. βWhen you asked for my numberβ¦ did you mean it in a friendly way?β The words rushed out like you could outrun the sheer embarrassment of them. βLikeβ¦ βIβm new to this town and I need to meet someoneβ friendly?β The wind surged, a violent shove against your shoulders that nearly knocked you off balance. You didnβt budge. You were pinned by the weight of his gaze.
βA friendly way?β Yunho repeated. The words sounded foreign in his mouth. He let out a short breathβone that didnβt even make a cloud in the freezing air, a detail you were too frustrated to notice. βIs that what you thought? That I was just... looking for a tour guide? Someone to show me where the best coffee shops are?β
βI donβt know what to think anymore! Youβre hot and cold, Yunho. Mostly cold!β Yunho didnβt flinch at the sound of your words; he didnβt even blink. He just stood there with that terrifying stillness while you shivered hard enough for your teeth to click.
βIβm not looking for a tour guide.β He took a half-step toward you. The movement was predatory in its smoothnessβno sway, no heavy footfall, just a sudden, seamless shift in the space he occupied. The smell of him hit you then, cutting through the cinnamon of your drink: crisp winter air, expensive laundry soap, and something metallic, like tasting blood in your mouth when you bit your tongue too hard. βIf I wanted a friend,β he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with a magnetic intensity that felt like it was pulling the very soul out of you, βI wouldnβt spend every night staring at my phone, wondering if Iβm strong enough to see you without...β He stopped. His jaw clamped shut so hard you heard the bone grind.
βWithout what?β You reached out, your fingers grazing the rough wool of his coat sleeve. Yunho recoiled as if youβd branded him with a hot iron. He backed into the brick wall of the alley, the rough stone scraping against his coat with a harsh sound. His chest wasnβt moving. You realised with a sudden, jolting clarity that he hadnβt taken a single breath since youβd mentioned the word βfriendlyβ.
He looked down at your hand, then up at your throat where the scarf had loosened again, exposing the pale skin of your neck. The veins in his own neck were standing out, taut. βPlease donβt do that. You have no idea what youβre asking for. You think Iβm being shy? You think Iβm... awkward?β A dark, humourless sound escaped his throat. He looked back toward the dark alley, his pupils blown wide until the brown of his irises was just a thin ring. βI can hear your heart,β he whispered, and for the first time, there was a visible tremor in his hands. He shoved them deeper into his pockets, bunching the fabric. βItβs been hammering against your ribs for the last three minutes. I can hear the blood rushing behind your ears. Itβs... it's the loudest thing in the world, and itβs all I can focus on.β
You let out a shaky breath, the fog of it dissipating against his cold, marble-like cheek. βYouβre scaring me a little. Stop talking like youβre in a movie.β
βGood,β he snapped, his eyes snapping back to yours. They looked darker now, almost black, reflecting the amber streetlamp. βYou should be scared. Iβm trying to give you a choice. Iβm trying to stay on my side of the line, for your sake.β He leaned in, his face inches from yours. The cold coming off him was like a wall, and it made your skin prickle into goosebumps. He looked at your mouth again, but this time, there was a hunger in it. His tongue swiped over his lower lip, a quick, nervous habit that seemed at odds with the sheer power radiating from his frame. βLet me walk you back home. Now.β
βAnd if I donβt want to go?β You challenged, your voice small but stubborn. You were tired of the mystery. You dropped your half-empty cup onto the pavement. It spilled with a dull splash, the scent of cinnamon-sugar swirling around your boots. You stepped into his space, forcing him to either retreat further into the wall or hold his ground. Yunhoβs hands flew out, grabbing your upper arms to stop you. His grip was firmβnot painful, but like iron bands that refused to let go.
βYouβre so warm,β he hissed, his eyes fluttering shut for a second as he leaned his forehead against yours. He took a breath, inhaling the scent of your skin as if it were oxygen. βYouβre so bright, and it hurts to even look at you.β One of his hands slid up, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. His skin was impossibly smooth. He paused at the pulse point just below your ear, his thumb hovering there, feeling the frantic thump-thump-thump of your life. His eyes opened, and for a split second, you saw a flash of somethingβa vein-like pattern darkening the skin beneath his eyes, a hunger so raw it made your stomach flip.
βYun, your face isββ
Then, he blinked, and it was gone, replaced by a look of profound, aching sorrow. βI want to kiss you so badly I canβt think about anything else,β he whispered against your skin, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. βBut if I start... I donβt know if I can stop. I donβt know if Iβm strong enough.β He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. βI wonβt contact you again. Iβm sorry.β He said it like a sentence heβd rehearsed in the mirror. But his hands were still on you. Not gripping now. Not iron bands. Justβ¦ holding, as if letting go might send you both skidding off the edge of the world. His thumbs pressed faint, trembling half-moons into your sleeves. Yunhoβs gaze dropped to your spilled drink. Cinnamon and sugar turning to a cold puddle. He watched it like it was evidence of a crime. Then his eyes lifted again, slow. They werenβt pleading. They were hungry and tired, like heβd been starving for a century and was still trying to be polite about it. You noticed the tension in his neck, the way his jaw clenched until the muscle jumped. He didnβt blink.
You swallowed, and he watched the movement of your throat as if it were a confession. As if it were an invitation. You leaned in first. For one heartbeat, he didnβt move. Not a flinch. Not a breath. You could feel the pause like a held knife. Then Yunho surged forwardβcontrolled, yet brutal in his restraintβand his mouth met yours.
Cold.
It was like kissing winter itself. Like your lips touched something that had no right to be this smooth, this still, this alive. His kiss wasnβt soft, but it wasnβt hungry eitherβnot yet. It was precision. A question he had been dying to ask. Your breath hitched, warm air spilling into the space between you, and Yunho made a sound low in his throatβhalf pain, half needβas if your warmth physically scorched him. You kissed him back anyway, your hands tangling in his hair. His lips parted, just barely, and the edge of his control frayed. The kiss deepened with a slow, deliberate pressure that made your knees go unsteady. Yunhoβs hand slid up, cupping your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he couldnβt help checking you were real. Your mouth tasted like cinnamon and sugar. Yunho tasted like nothing at all. And that shouldβve terrified you. Instead it made something reckless spark in your chest. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer until your heat bled into him and he shuddered like it was too much. The world narrowed down to the scrape of brick behind his shoulders and the way he kissed you.
Then his lips broke from yours so suddenly you gasped, chasing him without thinking. βStop,β he rasped, his forehead pressing to yours again, his voice shaking so much that it felt more like a machine than a man. βIf you keep looking at me like thatβif you keep letting meββ His pupils were blown wide, the brown nearly erased by ink-black. His thumb hovered at the sensitive dip of your throat, right over the frantic, rhythmic hammering beneath your skin. He didnβt pressβhe didnβt even touchβbut the air in that microscopic gap felt charged like the atmosphere seconds before a lightning strike. βIβll go insane,β he whispered, the words ghosting over your dampened lips.
When he pulled back, it wasnβt far, but it was enough to break the magnetic pull. Enough that you could actually see him. You saw the way his dark lashes trembled as he forced them down, the way his jaw was locked so tight you feared the bone might actually crack under the strain. Your lips stung from the cold and the bruising pressure of the kiss; your chest burned from the way youβd inhaled him, realising only now that youβd been starving for this just as much as he had.
βStop,β he repeated, the word scraping its way out of his throat. His forehead remained pinned to yours, his thumb still a prayer he refused to speak against your pulse. And something inside youβsomething that had been patient and sweet and so fucking careful for weeksβfinally went sharp.
You laughed once. It was a small, ugly burst of sound that fogged between you like a white flag you were done waving. βOkay,β you said. Your voice was quieter than you expected. Too steady. βYou want me to stop? Iβll stop.β
His eyes flicked up instantly. Dark. Blown out. Caught on your mouth again.
You stepped back. The space you left felt immediate and violent, like ripping a bandage off skin that wasnβt ready to be exposed. βYou know whatβs actually insane?β you continued, because now that the seal was broken, you couldnβt swallow the truth back down. Your fingers curled tight inside your sleeves, nails biting into your palms to keep from reaching out. βWeβve been doing this for weeks. Weeks! Coffee. Walks. These miserable cold days. You staring at me like Iβmββ You cut the sentence off, the heat of humiliation rising in your cheeks. βLike Iβm something youβre not allowed to want. Like Iβm a mistake youβre trying not to make.β
His throat worked. His mouth parted, but no sound came out.
βAnd I tried, Yunho. I tried to be so normal about it.β Your laugh turned into something that almost broke. βI tried to tell myself itβs fine if you donβt want me like that. I can take a hint. I can take ten hints. I can take a whole fucking billboard.β The streetlight buzzed overhead, a low, electric whine. βBut you donβt get to do this,β you said, and this time your voice did shake, not from the autumn chill, but from a fury that had been marinating in sweetness until it turned bitter. βYou donβt get to kiss me like that and then tell me to stop like it hurts youβlike Iβm the one hurting youβwhen youβre the one who keeps pulling me close and then shoving me away the second things get real.β His fingers flexed against the air, a reflexive reach he aborted halfway through. His hand dropped slowly, as if gravity were the only law he was capable of obeying in that moment. The lack of contact was louder than the kiss had been. You swallowed, and his gaze jerked to the movement of your throat so fast it was almost violent. His shoulders went rigid, as if your voice was a sound he could no longer bear to hear. βI wonβt do push and pull,β you said, softer now, because the anger had a deep bruise under it. βI wonβt keep showing up just to feel like Iβm begging for basic honesty.β
Yunhoβs nostrils flared. He turned his face a fraction away, looking toward the alley as if trying to shield his eyes from a glare. Your heat βDonβt.β The word was different from before. It wasnβt stop kissing me. It was: donβt make me choose.
βDonβt what?β You hated that your voice cracked, hated that you still sounded like someone who wanted him to stay. βDonβt call you out? Donβt ask for more? Donβtβwhat, Yun? Donβt make you admit you actually like me?β
His head snapped up. For a second, his expression was empty in a way that was genuinely terrifying. The careful, awkward Yunho had stepped aside, and something much older, much colder, was leaning forward in his place. His lips peeled back just a fractionβnot a smile, but a warning of how thin his leash had become. βIβm tryingβ Iβm trying to beββ He stopped, his eyes flicking to the ground.
βTo be what?β you pushed, pressing on the bruise because the pain was already there anyway. βItβs so simple! Either you like me or you donβt.β
Yunhoβs jaw clenched so hard you heard the faint, grinding sound of bone. Thenβso suddenly it made your stomach dropβhis expression sharpened into a cold, glittering anger that cut across his face like a shadow. His shoulders squared, and it was like watching a heavy door slam shut. βYou donβt get to reduce this,β he said, his voice matching the freezing temperature of his skin. βYou donβt get to stand there and decide what this is.β
βExcuse me?β
βYou think this is me being indecisive? Playing games? You think Iβm doing this because I like the chase?β His eyes flashed, and for a heartbeat, you could swear you saw that vein-dark pattern spidering at the edges of his lower lids. βIβm not angry at you for wanting an answer. Iβm angry because youβre acting like you have any idea what youβre actually asking for!β
Your mouth went dry. The air around him felt unnaturally still.
βYou think you want me,β Yunho continued, his voice lower, more dangerous. βYou think you want me like that because you like the way I look at you, because you like the way Iβmββ His breath stuttered. He swallowed it down. βBecause you feel like something pulls you to me. You think it's a romance.β
βThat is notββ
βYouβre right, you shouldnβt play push and pull, and I donβtββ
You cut him off before he could build another wall out of excuses. βStop it! Itβs fine if weβre friends. But not like this. Not while you look at me like that.β His eyes flickeredβthat half-second of raw hunger he always tried to swallow before it reached his face. βAnd you do,β you added, sharper now. βDonβt pretend you donβt. You kiss me and then talk to me like youβre doing me a favour by keeping your distance. You donβt get to punish me for noticing!β
βListenββ he started, stepping toward you.
βNo! You listen to me!β You stepped back, and the space between you felt like stepping off a ledge into the dark. Cold poured into the gap where his presence should be. Your mouth tasted faintly of cinnamon and the ghost of him, and it made you miserable. βWeβre adults. Iβm not doing this weird, half-lit, maybe-someday thing anymore.β
βIβm trying toββ he said, louder now, as if volume could bridge the gap.
βYouβre trying to keep me on a hook,β you interrupted, done being gentle. βAnd I canβt keep navigating your mixed signals like itβs my job to translate you. I see it clearly now. This is going nowhere.β The sentence dropped between you like a stone in deep water. No splash. Just weight. He flinched as if youβd physically struck him. His hand liftedβinstinct, reflexβreaching for your sleeve, for your wrist, for any part of you he could claim without having to speak.
You took another step back, out of reach.
βWait,β he said, and the rough edge of his voice was new. Desperate. βJustβjust let me explain.β
βIβve been letting you explain. For weeks. Every time you stared at my lips. Every time you touched me like it was an accident. Every time you asked me to stop like Iβm the one doing something wrong.β He tried to talk over you, panic rising in the set of his shoulders. You didnβt let him. You turned on your heel. The wet pavement flashed under the streetlight, slick as spilled ink. Your boots slapped against the ground, the sound indecently loud in the quiet alley. You didnβt look back. You wouldnβt give him the mercy of seeing your face break. βIβm done,β you called over your shoulder, your voice carrying like a thrown blade.
Behind you, Yunho said your nameβonce, like a warning. But you kept walking. You didnβt look at him. You just left him there in the cold, where he seemed to think he belonged. The wet slap of your boots against the pavement echoed through the narrow street, a rhythmic, angry punctuation to the silence youβd left behind. You didnβt look back, even though the back of your neck prickled with the heavy, unmistakable weight of his gaze. You expected him to stay there, frozen against the brick like a statue left out in the rain, but then you heard itβthe soft, unnervingly smooth scuff of his shoes following you.
βStop walking for a second,β Yunho called out, his voice sounding thinner than usual, stripped of that steady, melodic mask he usually wore.
βNo, Iβm good,β you snapped over your shoulder, your breath blossoming in front of you in a frantic, white cloud. βIβm going home to a place that has a heater and people who use their words. You should try it sometime. The words part, I mean.β You increased your pace, your fingers still stinging from the cold of his skin. He was right behind you now, not even winded, despite the speed you were trying to maintain. He didnβt have that heavy, huffing footfall of a normal man; he just moved like a shadow sliding over glass.
βI am trying to use them!β he protested, and you could hear the frustration bubbling up, that awkward, clumsy sincerity that made it so hard to actually stay mad at him. βItβs just... there isnβt a manual for this. Iβve never had to explain this to a human before!β
You spun around so fast you nearly tripped on a slick patch of sidewalk. βA human? What are you, an AI? A very handsome, very confusing chatbot?β You threw your hands up. βJust go home. Go back to your gloomy, sunless cave or wherever it is you spend all the sunny days in!β
Yunho stopped a few feet away, his shoulders hunched again, looking less like a predatory threat and more like a kicked puppy. He looked down at his feet, his jaw working as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. βIβm not a chatbot,β he muttered, the words barely audible over the distant hiss of traffic. He looked up, his dark lashes wet from the mist, and for a second, his pupils were so wide the brown of his eyes was almost gone. βIβm a vampire. Thatβs why Iβm cold. Thatβs why I donβt... I donβt breathe right when Iβm near you. Thatβs why I can hear your heart.β
The silence that followed wasnβt the heavy, rib-pressing kind from before. It was the kind of silence that happens right after someone says something so profoundly stupid you have to reboot your entire brain. You stared at him. A beat passed. Two. Then, a laugh escaped your throat, sounding bright and ridiculous against the grey dampness of the evening.
βOh, okay,β you said, your voice dripping with a thick sarcasm. βRight. A vampire. Of course. How silly of me not to realise. Is your name actually Stefan? Is your brother Damon chilling around the corner in a leather jacket waiting to kill my roommates?β
Yunho flinched at the names, looking genuinely confused. βWho? No, I donβt have a brother named Damon. My brother name is Geonho, he works in real estate in Busan, but thatβs hardlyββ
βAnd let me guess,β you interrupted, stepping closer, emboldened by the sheer absurdity of his lie. You reached out and poked his chestβit felt like poking a marble pillar covered in wool. βYou sparkle in the sunlight? You have a collection of graduation caps on your wall? Youβre a hundred years old and youβve decided to spend your eternity hanging out in mediocre coffee shops with a girl who works 9-to-5?β
βI donβt sparkle,β he said, his voice taking on a wounded, defensive edge. βThatβs... thatβs a very weird thing to suggest. And Iβm only twenty-seven. Well, technically. Iβve been twenty-seven for a while, but I wasnβt alive during the French Revolution or anything dramatic like that.β
You laughed again, but this time it had a bitter edge. You were hurt that he thought you were gullible enough to accept a literal fairy tale as an excuse for why he was a terrible communicator. βYou are unbelievable,β you whispered, shaking your head. βI ask for honesty, for a reason why youβve been treating me like a puzzle you donβt want to solve, and you give me The Vampire Diaries fanfiction? Did you think that would make you sound cool? Or mysterious?β
βIβm not trying to be mysterious!β He looked frantic now, his hands hovering near your arms but never quite touching, as if he was afraid he might actually break you. βIβm trying to tell you why Iβm terrified to touch you! I can hear the blood rushing through your veins, and itβs the most beautiful thing Iβve ever heard, and I have no idea how to be a βboyfriendβ without wanting to... to...β
βTo what? Eat me?β You rolled your eyes, stepping back and turning away. βGive it a rest. Itβs actually embarrassing at this point. Iβm going home. Donβt call me again. Iβm not really into the whole βundead martyrβ thing. I prefer guys who have a pulse and donβt lie to my face because theyβre too awkward to admit they just arenβt that into me.β
βI am into you!β he yelled at your retreating back. βIβm extremely into you! That is the entire problem!β
βGo find a Bella!β you shouted back, not stopping. βIβm sure thereβs a moody teenager somewhere whoβd love this. Me? Iβm going to go have a glass of wine and forget I ever met a guy who thinks heβs a supernatural predator because heβs bad at dating!β As you rounded the corner, you could still feel his presence at the edge of the alley, a cold, still point in a moving world. You didnβt look back to see him standing there, looking perfectly, devastatingly human in the amber glow of the streetlamp.
ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ
ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ βYou had barely kicked off your boots and put on a warm hoodie when the knock cameβthree sharp, precise raps that sounded far too steady for someone who had just been told to get lost. You stomped to the door, tearing it open with enough force to make the hinges groan. Yunho was standing there, his hands shoved back into his coat pockets, his shoulders hunched.
βIf you say one word about wanting to drink my blood, I am calling the police,β you snapped, blocking the doorway with your entire frame. βOr a therapist. Honestly, Yunho, pick one.β
βIβm not here toβI donβt want to drink yourββ He cut himself off, his jaw tightening as he looked at the floor of the hallway. He looked exhausted. βI just... I didnβt want things to end like that. You were so angry.β
βIβm still angry!β you countered, leaning against the doorframe. βYou spent weeks acting like I was a burden for liking you, and then you try to exit the conversation by claiming youβre a character from a CW show. Itβs insulting. Whatβs next? Are you going to tell me you have a daylight ring? That youβre secretly pining for a girl from the 1800s who looks exactly like me?β
βI told you, Iβm only twenty-seven, and I actually canβt find my daylight ring, thatβs why we only hang out on gloomy days.β He muttered, taking a half-step forward, then stopped abruptly, his toes hovering exactly at the line where your apartmentβs hardwood met the carpet of the hallway.
βOh, whatβs the matter?β you teased, a mean little spark of humour cutting through your fury. βDid you forget to check the moon cycle? Or are you waiting for me to throw a steak at you? No, waitβitβs the invitation thing, isn't it?β You let out a short, mocking laugh, gesturing grandly toward your living room. βCome on then, Dracula. Step into my parlour. Come tell me more about how youβve been βtwenty-seven for a whileβ while you help me fold my laundry.β
Yunho didnβt laugh. He didnβt even smile. He just looked at you with a an aching intensity. He shifted his weight, his upper body leaning slightly into the apartment, but his feet stayed glued to the threshold.
βIβm serious,β you said, your voice losing some of its edge as the silence stretched. βStop the act. Just walk in, sit on the couch, and tell me the truth. No more vampires, no more βI can hear your heartβ nonsense. Just... talk to me.β
βI canβt,β he whispered. His throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes flicking to yours, wide and dark.
βYes, you can. The door is wide open. Iβm literally standing here.β You reached out, grabbing the sleeve of his coat to tug him forward. The moment you pulled, you felt it. Yunhoβs body jerked forward, but it was like heβd hit a wall. His shoulder slammed into an invisible barrier in the empty air of the doorway, the impact making a dull, thudding sound that vibrated through your grip on his arm. He didnβt stumble; he just stopped dead, his face contorting in a brief flash of genuine frustration. You let go of his sleeve as if it had turned into fire. You looked at the empty space between the doorframes, then back at him. He was standing perfectly still again, his chest not moving, his face pale and marble-smooth. βWait,β you breathed, the teasing air in your lungs turning into a cold stone. You reached out again, slower this time, and passed your hand through the air where he had just hit the βwall.β There was nothing there for you. Just empty space. βWhy did you... why didnβt you move?β
βYou didnβt invite me in,β he said simply, his voice trembling just enough to break the βcoolβ persona he never quite managed to pull off anyway. He looked down at his feet, then back at you, his expression a mess of embarrassment. βI told you. Iβm trying to stay on my side of the line.β
The realisation hit you like a bucket of ice water. The metal-cold skin. The way he never seemed to breathe when things got intense. The way he looked at your throat as if it were a ticking clock. βYouβre actually...β You trailed off, your voice sounding small and far away in your own ears. You looked at him and saw the way he was shaking with a tension that had nothing to do with being awkward and everything to do with restraint.
βIβm a vampire,β he repeated, and this time, you didn't laugh. βAnd I really, really like you. Which is a catastrophic problem for both of us.β The silence in the doorway was too thick. You stared at the empty space where his shoulder had just thudded against nothingness, then back at Yunho, who was looking at his own feet as if they had betrayed him. The anger was still there, simmering under your skin, but it was being rapidly overtaken by a bewildered, scientific curiosity that bordered on the absurd. βOkay,β you breathed, stepping back into the warmth of your living room but keeping your eyes locked on him. βSo, the threshold thing. Thatβsβ¦ that is a very specific architectural hurdle for a supernatural predator. Itβs deeply inconvenient.β
βItβs humiliating,β he corrected, his voice muffled. He looked up, and the amber hall light caught the frustration in his eyesβthat familiar, awkward Yunho expression that usually meant heβd forgotten how to order a complicated latte. βIβve spent the last three minutes trying to figure out how to look cool while being physically barred from a studio apartment by a lack of social etiquette.β
βRight, because thatβs the part of this thatβs weird. Not the fact that youβre technically a corpse,β you shot back, though your voice lacked its previous bite. You crossed your arms, leaning against the hallway wall. βFine. You want an invitation? You can come in. But if you try to sparkle or turn into a bat or a crow, Iβm hitting you with a broom. Iβm serious. You are invited into my home. Justβ¦ step carefully.β He took a tentative step, and this time, there was no thud. He slipped across the line with a fluid grace that made the hair on your arms stand upβa sudden shift in the space he occupied that felt entirely unnatural. As he passed you, the air temperature in the hallway seemed to drop ten degrees. βOkay, stop right there,β you said, pointing toward the middle of the rug. He stopped instantly, his hands still bunched in his pockets. βStay. I need to check something.β
βIβm not a dog,β he murmured, but he didnβt move. He watched you with that intense, magnetic gaze that used to make your stomach dip, but now it just made you want to take notes.
You hurried into the kitchen, your mind racing through every movie trope youβd ever watched. You returned a moment later, clutching a jar of minced garlic and a small, silver-plated butter knife.
βIs thatβ¦ is that garlic?β Yunho asked, his nose wrinkling. His nostrils flared, caught by the scent. βAre you actually going to season me?β
βItβs a diagnostic test!β you countered, unscrewing the lid and holding it out at armβs length. βWell? Does it burn? Do you feel like youβre going to explode into ash?β
Yunho leaned forward, sniffing the jar with a look of profound boredom. βIt smells like a pasta night I wasnβt invited to. Iβm not allergic to seasoning. I just canβt digest it. It stays in my stomach like a rock for three days. Itβsβ¦ itβs very uncomfortable, actually.β
βDisappointing,β you muttered, setting the jar on the coffee table. You held up the butter knife. βMirror? Do you have a reflection, or am I currently talking to a very handsome hallucination?β You marched him over to the mirror in the hallway. You stood behind him, peering over his shoulder. In the glass, your own face was flushed and messy, but Yunho was there tooβsharp jawline, dark lashes, and that pale, steady stillness.
βIβm in the mirror,β he said and it sounded almost bored. Like he had done this multiple times before. βThe silver-backing thing is an old myth. Physics still applies to light bouncing off my skin, even if I donβt have a pulse.β
βYou really donβt have one?β You stepped closer, the fury from the alleyway turning into a reckless sort of courage. You reached out, your fingers hovering over his wrist. βCan I?β
Yunho went rigid. βOkay,β he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as you pressed your warm fingers against his skin. There was nothing. No thrum, no rhythmic push of life. Just that impossibly smooth, marble-like surface. It was like touching a statue that breathedβexcept he wasnβt breathing. You realised then, with a jolt of clarity, that his chest wasnβt moving at all.
βYouβre holding your breath,β you whispered, looking up at him.
βI donβt need to do it,β he rasped, finally letting out a jagged, shuddering puff of air that didnβt even fog in the room. βI only do it to make people feel comfortable. But when Iβm this close to youβ¦ when I can hear your heart hammering against your ribs like thatβ¦ I forget to pretend.β
βSo youβre telling me,β you said, trying to regain your witty footing because the sheer intensity of him was starting to make your head spin, βthat all those times we went for coffee, you were justβ¦ what? Renting a chair? Pretending to enjoy the ambiance while your internal organs were on strike?β
βI like coffee, I can have human food but it doesnβt help with hunger,β he said softly, a small, genuine smile finally twitching at the corner of his mouthβthe first one youβd seen all night that actually reached his eyes. βAnd I like watching you. Youβre so bright, it actually hurts my eyes sometimes. I wasnβt lying about that part.β
You huffed, crossing your arms again to hide the way your hands were shaking. βYouβre still a dork. A supernatural, immortal dork who let me think I was being rejected for a months because you were too busy being a martyr.β
βI was trying to be a gentleman!β he protested, his awkwardness returning in full force as he gestured vaguely toward the door. βI didnβt want to be the guy whoβ¦ who ruins your life because he canβt stop staring at your pulse point!β
βWell, you failed,β you said, stepping into his space and forcing him to look at you. βYouβre already in the house. The garlic didnβt work. Now, are you going to sit down and tell me the rest of this ridiculous story, or do I need to go find some holy water?β
The frantic, buzzing energy of the hourβthe shouting in the street, the mocking laughter, the ridiculous garlic testβevaporated all at once, leaving a hollow, ringing silence in its wake. You stood in the middle of your living room, the butter knife still clutched in your hand like a toy, while Yunho remained exactly where youβd told him to stay. He didnβt shift his weight. He didnβt itch his nose. He didnβt even seem to be blinking. He just stood there, a perfectly rendered human shape that felt like a glitch in the reality of your apartment.
βYouβre not breathing,β you whispered, the words finally landing with the weight of lead. It wasnβt a joke anymore. βYouβve been standing here for two minutes, and your chest hasnβt moved once.β
βI already told you,β he said, his voice quiet, devoid of the defensive edge it had earlier. βI donβt... I donβt need to. Itβs a habit I keep up so people donβt stare at me, but right now... Iβm a bit overwhelmed.β
You dropped the butter knife onto the coffee table. The clack of metal on wood sounded deafening. You walked a slow circle around him, your eyes scanning him with a new, terrifying clarity. You saw the way the lamplight hit his skinβit didnβt look like skin, really. It looked like fine porcelain, translucent and bloodless. You remembered every time his hand had brushed yours over a coffee cup, and how youβd just thought he had poor circulation. βSo when you said your eyes hurt in the sun...β you started, your voice trailing off as you pieced the weeks together.
βThey really do,β he interrupted, his gaze following you with a slow, heavy tilt of his head. βItβs like someone is stabbing a needle into my brain.β
βAnd the mixed signals?β You stopped in front of him, close enough to feel the wall of cold air radiating from his body. βAll those times youβd lean in and then practically jump back like Iβd burned you? Was thatββ
βI was hungry,β he blurted out, then immediately looked horrified, his face twisting into a grimace of pure, awkward shame. βNo, waitβthat came out wrong. I wasnβt... I didnβt want to eat you. I mean, I did, but notβGod, this is why I didnβt say anything! Iβm terrible at this.β He dragged a hand through his hair, the first truly human-looking gesture heβd made since entering. βI have a crush on you,β he continued, the words tumbling out in a rush, messy and unpolished. βA massive, terrifying crush. And Iβve never had one on a human before. I didnβt know how to handle the fact that I wanted to kiss you and also, simultaneously, my instincts were telling me that your carotid artery was exceptionally vibrant.β
βMy carotid artery? That is the least romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.β
βI know!β he groaned, finally moving from his spot to pace the small rug. βIβm a disaster. I spent three nights practicing how to ask you to the movies without sounding like a predator, and then I realised the movie was a matinee and Iβd just spend the whole time squinting and smelling the popcorn I donβt like! So I just... I didnβt ask you. I thought it was better if you just thought I was a jerk.β
βYou went with βvampireβ instead of βjerkβ?β You sat down on the edge of the couch, your legs feeling a bit like jelly. The reality was sinking inβthe person youβd been falling for was a literal myth, a creature of the night who was currently pouting because he found human dating mechanics too difficult. βYou have a total martyr complex, you know that? You decided to suffer in silence and let me feel like I was crazy because you were afraid youβd... what? Bite me?β
βI donβt trust myself,β he said softly, stopping his pacing to look at you. The vulnerability in his expression was devastating. He looked like he was waiting for you to scream, to throw him out, to realise he was a monster. βIβve spent a long time being very careful. Being alone is easy. Being with you is... itβs a constant test. And Iβm so tired of failing it.β
You looked at him and saw the awkward, silent boy youβd been meeting for weeks, just with a much darker secret. He wasnβt a legend. He was just Yunho, and he was terrified of hurting you. βWell,β you said, your voice shaking just a little as you gestured to the empty spot on the couch next to you. βYouβre already in the house. And Iβm pretty sure youβre not going to eat me tonight. So... sit down. Stop being a martyr for five minutes and just be my friend. Or whatever this is.β
He hesitated, his eyes flicking to the door and then back to you. βAre you sure? I can leave. I can go back to Busan and work in real estate with my brother. You donβt have toββ
βYunho,β you interrupted, a small, weary smile tugging at your lips. βSit. Down. Before I get the garlic again.β
He sat. It wasnβt a smooth, relaxed sink into the cushions; it was a rigid, mechanical descent, his body hovering an inch above the fabric for a second before he finally let his weight settle. He looked like he was sitting on a bench made of high explosives rather than a budget-friendly IKEA sofa. βYouβre supposed to be screaming,β he gripped his knees, his knuckles whiteβor rather, whiter than usual. βYouβre supposed to be halfway down the stairs calling a priest or... or a Van Helsing. Why are you just standing there looking at me like Iβm a science project?β
βBecause the βscience projectβ currently looks like heβs about to have a panic attack, and Iβm pretty sure dead hearts donβt do that,β you said, crossing your arms. The initial terror had settled into a strange, buzzing adrenaline. βBesides, Iβve seen you try to use a self-checkout machine. Youβre not exactly the King of the Damned.β
βThat machine was rigged!β he snapped, his eyes flashing a brief, startling gold before fading back to dark brown. He caught the change and immediately looked away, shamed. βSee? That. Right there. Iβm a predator. Iβve lived through three different wars and I couldββ
βYou could what? Drain me of blood?β you interrupted, moving closer. You watched him flinch, his whole body tensing as you sat on the opposite end of the couch. βLetβs get to the important part, Yun. You just admitted, in the middle of a very dramatic, very weird confession, that youβve had a crush on me for weeks.β
Yunhoβs ears turned a faint, dusty sort of grey-pinkβthe closest he probably got to blushing. βThatβs what youβre focusing on? I just told you Iβm a literal monster, and youβreβyouβre asking about my dating preferences?β
βYes! Because the βmonsterβ part explains why your hands are cold, but the βcrushβ part doesnβt explain why youβve been acting like a total jerk!β You leaned in, invading his personal space, watching the way he leaned back until he was practically horizontal against the armrest. βSo, letβs be clear. You like me. Like, βI want to take you out on actual dates and hold your hand without worrying about your pulseβ like me?β
βI think about holding your hand every five seconds,β he whispered, the honesty sounding like it was being pulled out of him. βAnd it terrifies me. Because if I stop thinking about it, if I let myself just... be with you, I might forget to be careful. I mightβI donβt know, I might accidentally crush your bones because I donβt know my own strength when Iβm happy.β
You felt a sharp tug at your heart, the kind that was definitely too warm for the creature sitting across from you. βYouβre such a martyr. Youβve spent our entire βfriendshipβ trying to protect me from yourself, havenβt you? Thatβs why you always walked me to my door and then disappeared like a ghost.β
βI didnβt want to be another thing that hurt you,β he finally looked at you, and the raw vulnerability there was so human it made the vampire thing feel like a footnote. βIβm not a good person to love. Iβm a dead end. Literally.β
βWell, luckily for you, Iβm the one who gets to decide whoβs a βdead endβ or not,β you said, moving even closer until your knee brushed his. He looked like he wanted to bolt through the ceiling. βSo, what are we now? Are we still βjust friendsβ who ignore the fact that you want to bite my neck and I want to kiss you? Or are we actually doing this?β
βDoing what?β he repeated, his eyes wide. βYou want toβwith a guy who has to drink blood to stay somewhat sane? I donβt even have a pulse!β
You reached out, and this time, you didnβt hesitate. You took his hand. It was cold, yes, like a river stone in winter, but it was steady. βStop looking for reasons to run away. Youβre not that scary.β
βI am scary,β he insisted, though he didnβt pull his hand away. Instead, his fingers tentatively curled around yours, his grip so light it was almost non-existent. βIβm a nightmare. Iβm the thing under the bed.β
βYouβre the thing that brings me my favourite coffee and listens to me complain about my boss for three hours,β you countered, squeezing his hand. βSo, answer the question.β
Yunho looked down at your joined hands, his chest finally hitching in a simulated breath. He looked back at you, a slow, shy smileβthe one that always made your heart do a stupid little flipβcreeping across his face. βIβd like to... do this,β he said, the word sounding foreign and precious on his tongue. βIf youβre sure youβre okay with... all of this.β
βIβm sure,β you said, leaning in until your forehead rested against his. The coldness was there, but so was he. βBut Iβm still making fun of the βStefanβ thing. Thatβs never going away.β
βI really don't know who that is,β he groaned, his shoulders finally dropping as he let out a long, silent puff of air. βBut I have a feeling Iβm going to hear a lot about him.β
βYou actually don't know who Stefan Salvatore is?β The shift in your tone was so sudden it made Yunhoβs head snap up. He looked at you, bewildered, as the heavy, romantic tension evaporated, replaced by a look of genuine, wide-eyed horror on your face. You werenβt scared anymore; you were offended.
βIβshould I?β he asked, his voice small and genuinely concerned. βIs heβ¦ is he a local celebrity? Did I miss something?β
βSomething? Yunho, heβs an icon! Heβs the sensitive vampire with the hero hair!β You scrambled off the couch, paced to your TV stand, and then turned back to him, pointing a finger dramatically. βAnd youβre literally doing his whole bit! The βIβm a monsterβ speech? The βI canβt be near youβ dramatic pouting? You are a walking trope, and you donβt even know the source material!β
Yunho blinked, looking deeply insulted. βI am not pouting. I am experiencing an existential crisis regarding my predatory nature and its proximity to the person I care about.β
βThat is literally the definition of pouting in the vampire world!β you shrieked, a giggle bubbling up that you couldnβt suppress. You felt a hysterical wave of excitement wash over you. βOh my god, this is incredible. Youβre a vampire who is culturally illiterate. We have so much work to do! Do you have a daylight ring? Please tell me you have a piece of vintage jewellery that lets you walk to the grocery store at noon.β
βI told you, I donβt sparkle and I lost my a ring,β he groaned, burying his face in his hands. βSo during sunny days I just get a really bad migraine and my skin feels like itβs being poked with hot needles. Itβs a biological sensitivity, not a magical curse.β
βWhatever, weβre calling it a daylight sensitivity,β you sat back down, much closer this time, leaning into his cold side without a second thought. βWait. Can you do the thing? The eye thing? Do they go all veiny and scary when youβre hungry? Can you run really fast? Like, if I forget my phone at a cafe, can you zoom there and back in four seconds?β
Yunho peeked through his fingers, looking at you with a mix of affection and utter disbelief. βYouβreβ¦ youβre fangirling. I just admitted Iβm an undead creature who lives on blood, and youβre treating me like aβa marvel of modern convenience?β
βItβs cool, Yunho! Itβs objectively cool!β You grabbed his arm, shaking it. βThink about the possibilities! No more waiting in traffic! You can carry all the groceries in one trip!β
βIβm glad my curse is so βconvenientβ for your shopping trips,β he muttered, though the corners of his mouth were twitching. He looked down at where you were clutching his arm, his expression softening. The fear that had been radiating off him for the last hour was finally starting to melt. βAnd no, Iβm not zooming anywhere. Itβs exhausting. Itβs like sprinting a marathon in five seconds. Iβd rather justβ¦ walk. With you.β
βUgh, so Stefan,β you teased, nudging his shoulder with yours. βTotal hero hair energy. We are starting a marathon tomorrow! Eight seasons! You need to learn the rules of your own people.β
βI have my own rules,β he said softly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. He reached out, his cold thumb grazing your jawline with a tenderness that made your breath hitchβnot out of fear, but because he was finally here. βRule number one: no biting the girlfriend. Rule number two: try to survive her taste in television.β The word hung in the air, vibrating with more electricity than any of the supernatural talk that had preceded it. You froze, your head still resting against his shoulder, but your eyes went wide, staring at a very specific, very un-dusted corner of your bookshelf.
βThe what?β you squeaked, your voice jumping an entire octave. You pulled back just enough to look at him, and for the first time tonight, Yunho looked truly, devastatingly caught. If he were human, heβd be a deep shade of crimson; as it was, he just looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He didnβt pull his hand away from your face, but his fingers twitched against your skin.
βI... did I say that out loud?β he stammered, his eyes darting toward the ceiling as if looking for an escape route that didnβt involve a door he couldnβt pass through.
βYou very much did,β you said, a slow, triumphant grin spreading across your face. The anger from the alleyway was a distant memory, replaced by the chaos of the moment. ββNo biting the girlfriend.β Thatβs a very specific title. A very official, non-ambiguous, βwe-are-definitely-datingβ title.β
βI was getting ahead of myself,β he muttered, finally dropping his hand and looking at his knees. He looked so small for a guy who was technically an apex predator. βThe logic was... if Iβm staying, and youβre not screaming, and weβre doing the TV marathon... I just assumed the role was open. I didnβt mean toββ
βNo, no, donβt you dare backtrack now!β you laughed, poking him in the ribs. He jumped, a surprised, huffing sound escaping him. βYou canβt drop the βG-wordβ and then try to hide behind your existential dread. Is that what we are? Am I the girlfriend? Because five minutes ago you were telling me to never call you again.β
βI never told you not to call me,β he protested, finally looking back at you, his expression softening into something incredibly sweet and painfully awkward. βYou told me not to call you. I was just... I was going to mope in my apartment for a few decades and wait for the regret to subside.β
βA few decades? God, youβre dramatic,β you teased, reaching out to grab the lapels of his coat, pulling him a few inches closer. βBut seriously. Say it again. Without the βno bitingβ part.β
Yunho swallowed hard. He looked at your mouth, then back to your eyes, his gaze heavy and dark. The vampire part of himβthe stillness, the intensityβmerged with the boyfriend part in a way that made your heart do a frantic dance. βYouβre my girlfriend. If youβll have a guy whoβs basically a high-maintenance houseplant that only drinks O-plus.β
βIβve had worse boyfriends,β you shrugged, though your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. βOne of them didnβt even have the decency to be immortal, he didnβt even have a job. At least youβre... interesting.β
βInteresting,β he repeated, a genuine smile breaking through his nerves. βI can work with interesting.β
βGood,β you said, leaning in until your noses brushed. The coldness of him wasnβt a barrier anymore. βNow, as your official girlfriend, I have my first executive order: we are going to the kitchen, I am making a grilled cheese, and you are going to sit there and tell me exactly how youβve managed to live years without seeing a single episode of The Vampire Diaries. Itβs a literal hate crime.β
βCan I at least hold your hand while you do it?β
βAlways,β you whispered, tugging him toward the kitchen. βBut if you start brooding while Iβm flipping the bread, Iβm calling you Stefan for the rest of the night.β
βI still donβt know who that is!β he called out, his laughterβshort, rare, and musicalβfollowing you into the warmth of the kitchen.
ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ
ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββ ββββThe grilled cheese sat forgotten on its plate, the cheese cooling. The kitchen was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the frantic, erratic thrumming of your own heartβa sound that, apparently, was currently a drum solo in Yunhoβs ears. You were leaning against the counter, and Yunho was standing directly in front of you. He had finally shed his coat, revealing a simple black sweater that made his skin look like polished cream. Up close, without the barrier of the βfriendβ label, the air between you felt charged that it made the small hairs on your arms stand up.
βYouβre staring again.β
βYouβre hard not to stare at,β you countered, your breath hitching. βEspecially now that I know youβre not just moody, youβre actually a legend.β
Yunho let out a soft, huffing soundβalmost a laugh, but more of a surrender. He reached out, his movements slow and deliberate, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers were freezing, but the gesture was so tender it made your toes curl against the linoleum. He lingered there, his thumb grazing your temple, his gaze dropping to your lips with a hunger that was finally, terrifyingly honest. βCan I?β he whispered.
βIf you ask one more time, I'm revoking your invitation.β
He didnβt wait. He leaned in, and when his lips met yours, it wasnβt like anything youβd ever felt. There was no warmth, no soft puff of breath against your cheek, just a firm, cool pressure. It was shocking, then intoxicating. You reached up, your hands finding the back of his neck, pulling him closer, desperate to share your heat with him. Yunhoβs grip on your waist tightened. His strength was startling. Emboldened by the contact, you let your hands slide down his back, tugging him flush against you. You wanted moreβmore of this strange, chilly friction, more of the way he seemed to melt into you despite himself. You tilted your head, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, and let out a small, needy whimper.
The effect was instantaneous.
Yunho tore himself away so fast he was on the other side of the kitchen island before you could even blink. He hit the opposite counter with a heavy thud, his eyes wide. βNo,β he gasped, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so hard you heard a faint crack. βNo, stop. Donβtβdonβt do that.β
You stood there, breathless and flushed, your heart hammering against your ribs. βDid I... did I do something wrong?β
βYour pulse,β he rasped, his head snapping to the side as if he couldnβt bear to look at you. The veins under his eyes were prominent now, dark and pulsing. βItβs too loud. When you move like that, when you... when you make that sound... itβs all I can hear. Itβs like a siren. Itβs not just a crush anymore, itβsβitβs an instinct.β He looked at you then, and the martyr complex was back in full force, mixed with desire. βI want you so much itβs actually making my teeth ache. I can feel the venom, and I wonβt... I wonβt hurt you.β
βIβm not afraid of you,β you said, taking a tentative step forward.
βYou should be!β he snapped, though there was no heat in it, only desperation. He held up a hand to stop you. βPlease. Just... give me a second. I need to remember how to be the guy who likes your grilled cheese and hates your TV shows. I can't be... that other thing.β The silence returned, but this time it was heavy with the reality of what he was. You saw the struggle in the way his shoulders shook, the way he was fighting his own nature just to stay in the same room as you.
βOkay,β you whispered, leaning back against the counter, giving him the space he clearly needed to not lose his mind. βOkay. We can go slow. We can go βhuman-speedβ slow.β
Yunho closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool surface of the fridge. βThank you,β he breathed. βAnd for the record? That was... the best kiss Iβve had in about seventy years. Even if it almost killed us both.β
βSeventy years?β you chirped, trying to break the tension with a bit of your usual bite. βWow. Iβm dating a senior citizen. Stefan would never be this dramatic about a kiss, just so you know.β
βI am going to delete that show from your Netflix account,β he muttered, though the black in his eyes was finally beginning to fade.
The tension in the kitchen didnβt break so much as it dissolved, melting into a domestic, slightly ridiculous warmth. Yunho stayed by the fridge for another minute, his eyes closed, performing what looked like a very intense meditation on the concept of not being a predator. When he finally pushed away from the counter, the veins under his eyes were gone, replaced by that familiar, slightly dazed look of a man who had just survived a very confusing day at the office. He walked back to you, stopping a respectable three feet away, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as if to keep them from misbehaving. βOkay,β his voice was finally steady. βThe grilled cheese is cold. Iβve ruined the mood. And Iβm fairly certain I cracked your countertop. I should... I should probably fix that.β
βForget the counter,β you said, reaching out and grabbing his hand, pulling him back toward the living room. βYouβre an immortal being with superhuman strength and youβre worried about a hairline fracture in my kitchen counter? Sit. We have work to do.β
You pulled him back to the living room and shoved him onto the couch. He sank into the cushions, looking utterly defeated by your enthusiasm. You grabbed the remote, hopped onto the sofa next to him, and pulled a soft, oversized throw blanket over both of your laps.
βIs this necessary?β he asked, looking down at the fuzzy fleece. βI donβt actually get cold, remember?β
βNo, but I do,β you countered, snuggling into his side. βAnd since youβre basically a high-end refrigerator, you need to be under the blanket so I can use you for structural support. Now, hush. Season one, episode one. Meet the Salvatores.β As the opening credits rolled, Yunho sat as stiff as a board, his eyes fixed on the screen with the intensity of a scholar studying a dead language. Every few minutes, heβd let out a small, huffy sound of disapproval.
βThat's not how it works,β he whispered when a crow appeared on screen. βWe donβt control birds.β
βShh! Focus!β you nudged him.
Halfway through the episode, you felt him finally begin to relax. The rigid line of his shoulders softened, and slowlyβso slowly you almost didnβt noticeβhis arm lifted, sliding behind your shoulders to pull you closer. His skin was still cold, but your own warmth was beginning to seep into him.
βHeβs very dramatic,β Yunho muttered, nodding toward Stefan on the screen. βIs that what you think I look like? Like Iβm constantly mourning my own existence?β
βAbsolutely,β you laughed, looking up at him.
Yunho looked down at you, and for the first time that night, there was no fear in his eyes. No martyr complex, no βmonsterβ talk. Just a boy who had finally found a place to land. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. It was brief, careful, and perfectly safe. βIβm glad I told you,β he whispered, his chin resting on your hair. βEven if youβre going to spend next years making fun of me.β
βOh, I'm counting on it,β you said, closing your eyes and listening to the beautiful, eerie silence where his heartbeat should have been. βNow, be quiet. Damonβs about to show up, and youβre really going to hate his leather jacket.β
Yunho sighed, a long, contented sound that vibrated through your chest. He tightened his grip on you, tucked the blanket around your feet, and settled in. He was a vampire, and a terrible liarβbut as it turned out, he was also a pretty spectacular boyfriend.
put the whole atinyussy into a laptop and this comes out
Itβs the L-O-V-Emergency! - K.YS (teaser)
All work belongs to @valleysan on tumblr
Reblogging + interacting helps
________________________________________________________________
Being a princess means you canβt do anything.
Especially being the princess of the Avalon Empire.
Your mother has you on the tightest leash imaginable.
She said you canβt date a fellow faerieβ¦but she never said you canβt date a vampire.Β
(she did)Β
Today, your father and his are going to meet to discuss business which means
Kang Yeosang will be near you.
Your mother has to tell you for the billionth time about how βfaeries and vampires cannot date so do not try anything young ladyβ. Just hootinβ and hollerinβ. You donβt care what she says, that boy will be yours. But sadly, your mom is forbidding you from seeing Yeosang so you have to get creative.
You peek out the window to see him getting out of his carriage. You might as well be banging pots and pans with how loud you squealed at seeing him.
βMadam, please quiet down, your mother told me to keep you quiet.β The maid next to you says as she fixes your gown.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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me and my 6 followers are excited for my yeosang fic
change of plans my yeosang fic will be prioritized
Puppet - Mahito
WIP: estimated to be released late June or early July.
Short Summary: Being mahito's puppet isn't easy. he uses you for things like murder, arson, and things...personal. Your life being on the line is the only thing helping you stay afloat.
first fic kinda nervous
jeff the killer and mahito in the same room.
thatβs the post.
Slight rant
Anytime I draw Mahito/do an oc x canon/post a speedpaint on him people suddenly want me burned to the stake just because I drew a fictional character goddamn do some of you have common sense or some decency to scroll past or not comment
Look I get you may have a good reason to dislike this character but goddamn chill out
I may dislike him for how terrible this villain but I really love his design and his cursed technique
Like don't get me started with the ungodly amount of comments I received that I don't wanna read for the sake of my sanity but Jesus Christ why on earth are people so quick to shit on someone over a fictional character?
Sorry if I sounded like an asshole This has been bugging me for a while and I needed to vent my frustrations
Thank you for taking the time to read this
Paimon outπ«‘

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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who wants fem mahito hmu
self indulgent art i love hades a lot!!!
why did i just see a post about yuji that was SMUT and people just ignored it..
What big brave ponies,,,will add ChoCho once I finally design her π₯Ή
THIS IS MY FRIENDDDD
only twink san can save me

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
why is lesbian heartbreak worse than anythinf.
Nerdjo fanart by me !


