#theme: vamp col

[yuthoe]

Fatigued (PENTAGON: Hui)

after a quick look at my last fic post, i realized that it's been a little more than a year since i last posted any original thing from me lmaooo

i still have an unfinished vampire!wonho fic but i keep getting stuck cuz writing smut is haaaard. so since i have downtime from our workshop i decided to finish this, so i'm sorry if it seems like the ending is rushed. this one is still super tame compared to the others i have mapped out (as far as angst goes, this is not the heaviest one lol) so i hope y'all look out for those

PAIRING: Hui (Lee Hoetaek) x gn!reader. GENRE: fic, general, angst. WARNINGS: vampire!au—contains mentions of blood. WORD COUNT: 1,697.

---

Hoetaek closes the door to his apartment quietly, slinging the strap of his crossbody off his shoulder and carefully setting it on the floor of the entryway before toeing off his shoes. In his other hand he holds a rectangular insulated bag, small enough to not be conspicuous, but big enough to fit his refills if they’re packed right.

It’s the first time he’s come home to his apartment in a week, cooped up in his studio composing songs, fixing demos, struggling with lyrics. It was only the notification from his phone reminding him of his appointment at the hospital that got him to get up and fix the clutter around the room.

Now he tiredly carries the insulated bag into the kitchen, propping the fridge door open with his leg and opening the zip of the bag carefully.

The blood bags are carefully packed into the container—enough for around two weeks. Hoetaek doesn't need to feed often (he's gotten a good handle on his thirst throughout the decades), but he still regulates his feeding times so he doesn’t burn through them all in one sitting. Before he holed himself up in the studio, he made a point to stock his body up on nutrients so he didn’t have to bring any bags to clutter up the mini-fridge there.

Hoetaek sighs, blinks hard a few times to clear the daze out of his eyes so he can store the bags properly at the back of the fridge, but giving up quickly. He’s dizzy, sleepy, bone-tired, and frankly a little smelly from working non-stop these past few days. Before he passes out from exhaustion, he decides to just dump the refills onto the only empty space near the front of the fridge. A nice, hot shower and a soak in the bath is in order.

He dumps the now empty bag on the countertop and makes a quick stop to the bedroom to fetch his towel, before heading to the bathroom. Along the way, he taps on his phone with one hand, typing out a quick text to you. 

Hey, honey. I'm back at the apartment. Gonna take a quick shower, but you can come in anytime. 

Hoetaek leaves his phone on the counter top, and inch by inch relaxes as he settles into his bath time routine.

—

The bath is steamy when he finishes an hour later, refreshed and ready to take a much-deserved break. He whistles as he pads barefoot to the bedroom to change into the soft and comfy pajamas you gave him recently. When he finally finishes dressing and doing his minimal skincare routine, he steps out to the living area and sees you seated on the small couch.

“Oh, hi, babe! Didn’t hear you come in.” A lie. He heard it loud and clear when his phone buzzed on the counter midway through his shower; heard the quiet thud of the door and the lock fastening on the latch when you came in; heard the shuffling of your feet as you walked around the apartment in your house slippers; heard you rifling through the kitchen and the fridge looking for food or something to make a light meal with because he knows you like cooking for him after he’s had a tough day at work.

Cat’s out of the bag, as far as Hoetaek is concerned—you definitely saw the blood bags in the refrigerator. He is just delaying the inevitable at this point, refusing to acknowledge that he knows about your discovery and the worried and suspicious look on your face as you sit in silence.

“Yeah, I got in around fifteen minutes ago,” you say. He notes the way you twiddle your thumbs in your lap, looking away quickly to make a beeline to the kitchenette. It’s clean, just the way he left it an hour before, with no signs of anyone attempting to cook anything. Hoetaek figures you were too shaken by what you saw and gave up trying to whip something up and pretend everything is fine.

It is with a quiet resignation that he reaches into a cupboard for an opaque mug and rummages in the fridge for a blood bag, keeping his back towards you to hide him unscrewing the stopper and squeezing out the thick liquid into the mug. “Are you hungry? We can get something delivered,” he calls out, drowning out the sloshing sounds of the blood pouring out from the bag. Once he’s filled the mug almost to the rim, he screws the cap back on with practiced ease, licking his fingertips clean before stowing it back in the fridge, just on top of the pile.

Hoetaek hears you stand and pad all the way to the counter separating the kitchen from the living area as he looks for a reusable straw in one of the drawers, plopping it in the mug. “No, I’m good,” you say. The sweet taste of A-positive soaks his tongue as he takes a sip and he sighs in relief. He takes another drag through the straw before turning to face you, that worried look still on your pretty face. “Just…”

Your nails nervously tap on the faux-marble countertop. “Are you okay, Hoetaek? Are you sick or something?”

He holds the cooling mug tightly in both hands, shrugs. “What do you mean?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “I… I saw blood bags. In the fridge.” And then you start rambling. “I was just looking for something to cook for you because I know you’ve been at the studio working the whole week and figured you might want a salad or noodles or something. I didn’t mean to see—they were just there and I thought it was a pile of, I don’t know berry flavored jelly, I guess? But then I flipped one over and realized it’s blood and it had the label and everything, so I freaked out because how did you get that much blood and what are you gonna use all of it for?? Now, I’m concerned and worried and just a little bit freaked out about this whole thing.” Your fingers continued tapping a staccato rhythm as you talked, and finally still when you stop to catch a breath.

The mug almost falls out of Hoetaek’s hands as he regards you with shining eyes. He’d been lying to you, keeping such a big part of himself a secret from you for years. He can tell himself that he did it to protect you, to keep you away from the uglier side of him, but that’s not the whole truth. The fact of the matter is, Hoetaek is just scared; he is scared that you’ll just run off when the truth comes to light and he doesn’t think he can handle that.

The vampire sets the mug down on the counter next to the refrigerator, the contents well out of your sight, before standing in front of you. He lets the marble island between you act as a barrier, even as he takes both your hands in his. His thumbs smooth across your skin, teeth biting at his lip as he tries to find the right words.

“Babe… Thank you for worrying,” he finally starts. “But you didn’t need to. I’m not sick, although I know you get concerned that I’m too pale sometimes, but that’s just because I’m cooped up in the studio a lot.” He chuckles, and sees a corner of your mouth twitch upwards. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “We’ve been together for almost three years. And considering that I plan to get on your nerves for the foreseeable future, I suppose I need to be straight with you.

“I’m…” He takes a deep breath. “Well, to put it simply, I’m not human. I’m a vampire and I drink blood. I was born in the late 1890s, but I’ve been 30 for around eighty years or so.” He watches your face, looking for any sign of disgust or apprehension in the lines on your forehead. “I know this is a lot, and I’m not expecting you to stay after finding out about all this. If you need a break—from me—I completely understand.”

Hoetaek squeezes your hands and is about to release them, but you tighten your grip.

“You…” Hui’s brows knit as he watches you struggle to find words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replies quickly. “Take all the time you need.”

“No, it’s… I’m okay with it, I think?” You keep his hands in yours as you round the corner of the island to stand beside him. “I don’t mind that you’re a vampire, at least. I know I have questions, but I just don’t know how to word them properly, I guess?” The heat of your palms travels up as you drag them along his arms, across his shoulders, and stop to gently hold his cheeks. “I still love you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you say. “I have no reason to stop loving you, Hoetaek.”

He squeezes your hands, knuckles white. “But…,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I’m not like you, I’m not human—I’m different… Does that not scare you?”

You look square in his eyes, searching for something in them, and then you slowly shake your head. “No. You’re you, and as far as I’m concerned, the only different thing here is that you apparently drink blood straight out of the bag. You don’t feel different, you don’t look or sound different. So you’re still my Hoetaek, right?”

Hoetaek thinks he could cry. It never crossed his mind that you would turn him away after baring himself—you have no bad bone in your body. But hearing you say so confidently that you still love him, that he’s still yours… made his long dormant heart almost beat again.

He surges forward and wraps his arms around your waist, buries his nose into your neck. (He is definitely not crying.) “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

Hoetaek feels your head rest against his, your arms embracing him so gently, so carefully. “I love you, too. Always.”

[yuthoe]

Hell Week (MONSTA X: Shownu)

i kept forgetting to post this, but i finished it sometime last week. wasn't gonna post it this week either, given the absolute horrid state of the philippines currently because of the elections. i'm sure it's on the news wherever you are. disclaimer just in case you're wondering: i did not vote for the son of the former dictator, ok. i am in need of a distraction from the hellfire that is my country for a minute.

ANYWAY, i'm missing shownu a little more today and figured i should just post this, also to mark it green on my Vampire!AU Collection list. i'm also missing college a little, so here we aaaaare.

PAIRING: Shownu (Son Hyunwoo) x gn!reader. GENRE: fic, general, comedy (or at least, an attempt). WARNINGS: vampire!au—contains mentions of blood & genre-typical injuries; mild profanity. WORD COUNT: 2,200.

---

You drop your bag on the empty seat next to you, sucking in a big breath before stretching your arms up and out. Your joints crack and pop, stiff from staying in one position for too long. Before you made your way to the campus’s study hall, you’d been at the dorms, hunched over your laptop as you furiously typed up an essay final due in two hours. Thankfully, you managed to email it to your professor before the deadline, and finally breathed a tired sigh.

One final down, several more to go.

You lean back against the seat, letting your head dangle over the back of it and take a few seconds to clear your mind so you can focus on the next item on the seemingly never-ending list of final outputs and exams.

After your brief meditation session, you begin setting up your laptop and notebooks, spreading it over your side of the table. You plug in your six-year-old laptop in a nearby outlet and turn it on, before digging through your bag for your wallet, intending to grab a sandwich at the stall in the middle of the hall as a snack—the rumbling of your stomach has only gotten louder the longer you delayed your meal.

As you turn, wallet in hand, you spot your groupmate ambling towards your table. He raises a hand in greeting, and hooks both thumbs in the straps of his backpack as he walks.

You’ve been in the same group as Son Hyunwoo since the beginning of the semester. Surprisingly, no matter how many group changes and blind draws happened in the class of 30 students, you two always got stuck together. You don’t mind—Hyunwoo may be quiet, but he is a hard worker and very detail-oriented. Many of your reports have been saved by him noticing something you’d overlooked and quickly revising it.

Plus, he’s not bad to look at, either.

“Hey,” Hyunwoo says as he walks past to the other side of the table. He brings out a sleek laptop and places it opposite yours. Next to come out of the backpack are his notebooks and a couple of thick reference books.

“Hi,” you reply. “I’ll just grab a snack real quick.”

He nods an affirmative, quiet as always, and takes a seat.

You try to sneak a glance at him as you walk to the stall, but there really isn’t much to see—Hyunwoo is fully concentrated on his laptop, full lips pursed in thought as he reads and types.

While you wait for the lady behind the counter to finish preparing your sandwich, you make the decision to make an effort to get to know your groupmate a little more. You know the basics: Hyunwoo is 27 years old, he’s a graduate student, and he’s taking this slash course because it’s the only class that fits into his schedule. But apart from that, you don’t really know anything about him, despite being groupmates for five months. It might be futile to try to make an effort now when the semester is ending (and in the middle of Hell Week, too), but… it’s worth a shot, right?

Hyunwoo is already typing away when you finally return to the table, the sandwich in one hand and a bottle of extra strong coffee you picked up at the adjacent vending machine in the other.

As you settle in your seat, Hyunwoo peeks from behind his laptop and says, “What’d you get?”

Mildly surprised, you answer, “Oh uh… I think this is the chicken pesto sub? I don’t eat at this stall much, so I’m not really sure how it tastes.”

But he just nods, lips puckering as he looks at the wrapped food. “It’s good. The chicken is soft and they put a lot of garlic in the pesto.”

“Ooh, that’s great then; I like my pesto strong,” you say as you crack open the coffee and take a swig. The taste of sweet caffeine and milk flow through your tongue, and you cringe a bit before smacking your lips. “Mm, that’s sweet.”

Hyunwoo smiles as he goes back to typing on your shared document. “Do you not like sweet coffee?”

“Meh,” you say, taking another drink. “I can drink sweet coffee, but the stronger the better, I say.” Hyunwoo chuckles—it’s nice and deep, sends goosebumps up your arm.

You set the bottle aside and unwrap part of the sandwich. There is no rush—it’s only 7PM and the deadline is at 11:59. With the two of you working on the unfinished parts of the output, you should be done with it by then. For now, you eat your long-overdue lunch and relax.

Your groupmate doesn’t mind working alone while you eat; you’d asked him an hour before if it’s okay that you eat something before thrusting yourself into work, and he just replied with a sure, and nothing else. So he taps away on the notebook that looks way too small for his huge hands, occasionally asking you questions about what the outcomes of the test studies of the products are, survey response statistics, and food.

“There’s this Pakistani restaurant nearby I’ve been wanting to try,” you say, taking another bite of the sandwich. You chew for a few seconds and say, “I can never find the time to go, or someone to go with though. One of my friends has eaten there and she said they serve huge portions.”

“This is the one near the mall across the street, right?” Hyunwoo asks as he rummages in his bag for water. “I’ve been there with my roommates. Food’s really good.” He finally brings out a big blue Hydro Flask and unscrews the cap, taking a swig. “We can swing around after finishing this, if you want. I think they’re open until midnight.”

The offer startles you and you almost choke on the last bite of the sandwich. You cough and clear your throat, thumping your chest and reaching for your coffee.

"Sorry," Hyunwoo says after you've calmed down, thick brows furrowed over worried eyes. "You can just pretend I didn't say anything." 

You shake your head wildly. "No, no! It's totally fine," you say. "I was actually trying to figure out an excuse to get to know you better…" 

Hyunwoo hums. "The secret is food," he says quietly, taking out another tumbler from his bag, this one clear and filled with a red juice. "Whenever my roommates want me to do something, they always bribe me with food."

You laugh, balling up the paper wrapper of the sandwich and setting it aside. "Got it," you say, and chug the rest of the coffee. "Let's finish this so we can eat at that Pakistani place before it closes, shall we?" 

With a nod from the man across from you, the next three-and-a-half hours are filled with furious typing, occasional questions to each other, and a few bathroom breaks. 

Finally, after reading through the mock business model report one last time and catching any missed typos, you save the document and email it to your professor. 

"And done!" you exclaim, shooting your arms up in freedom, and groan as you stretch your stiff limbs. "God, two down and five more things to go! I don't know how I'm gonna survive the next two weeks."

"You'll be fine," Hyunwoo says as he closes his laptop and breathes out a sigh. He takes a sip from the clear tumbler with the juice. The thick liquid sloshes around in the bottle like those pureed fruit concentrates. "Seeing as you just finished two requirements in one day, you're doing well already."

You snort a laugh. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Hyunwoo, but I crammed the essay I was finishing earlier, and the reason I didn't lose my mind with this report was because you did most of the work." You begin packing your things, getting up only to unplug the laptop charger, and then plopping back down on your seat.

Hyunwoo waves a hand, dismissing the compliment. "Not a big deal. I'm just trying to pull my weight. Besides, you guys made and tested all the prototypes. All I can do is interpret the data." He unscrews the lid off the tumbler and downs the rest of the juice in one gulp. He smacks his lips and shudders, looking more energized.

You nod at the cup, noting the residue stuck to the inside. "What drink is that? Is it like a protein shake or something?"

Shownu visibly stiffens, eyes slowly moving to the cup still in his hand. “It’s. Yeah, a protein shake. I think it’s cherry?”

“Oohh, can I take a whiff of it? I’ve been looking for powders that don’t smell like grass or medicine.”

“I was wrong, it’s strawberry,” he deflects.

“I like strawberry, too.”

“No, I think it’s apple, actually.” Hyunwoo is clutching the tumbler so tightly that it looks like it’s about to crack and break. His face is blank, but the nervousness is easy to see. You debate on a reply for a second before following your caffeine-addled brain.

“You know you’re a terrible liar, right?”

Hyunwoo switches expressions from surprise, offense, and finally dejection in a span of two seconds. “My roommates tell me that a lot,” he says softly, screwing the lid back onto the tumbler and stuffing it in his bag; you think you see hairline fractures in the plastic. "And it's not a protein shake. Actually, I don't think you want to know what it is, it's pretty gross."

You snort. "Try me. There's less things that gross me out than some suspicious liquid that looks like a kid went ham with slime and food color."

Hyunwoo purses his lips again, seemingly debating what to tell you. Finally, he shakes his head. "My roommates will not be happy with this at all."

"Hey, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Hyunwoo," you backtrack quickly. "I'm really curious about it, but if you feel uncomfortable, I can just let it go." 

"No, it's all right," he says quickly. "It's hard keeping it a secret, and seeing as I want to have a better relationship with you, it would have come up soon anyway." 

You blink once. Twice. "Were you always this blunt?"

A corner of his lips quirks up. "You bring it out of me I guess." He digs into his backpack again and pulls out the clear tumbler, unscrews the lid and holds the cup out to you. 

Wordlessly, you take it in both hands, bringing it up to your nose and carefully sniffing the residue. Immediately, a tangy, metallic scent wafts up your nose and you cringe back. "Is this… blood?" 

You look at Hyunwoo, but he avoids your gaze. "It's… yeah. It's blood." He holds out his hand for the tumbler and you return it. "I can understand if you find it weird and don't want to see me after this—," 

"I mean," you interrupt, continuing to pack your stuff away. "It's weird, but there are some cultures that eat like, dishes made out of blood, right? So it's not that odd." You roll up your charger cable as you talk. "Do you have anemia?" 

Through your short speech, Hyunwoo had been following your movements with his brows furrowed. Now, he's struggling to find words. "I—...? Anemia?" 

"Yeah, are you iron-deficient? Like you need iron supplements and need to eat liver and blood?" 

"Iron—wait, what? No, I'm not anemic." He takes a deep breath. "I'm a vampire." 

You stop all movement, staying still for a second. And then your head whips towards him. "No shit?" you say, excited "Like really? You're not playing with me?"

"Uh, no? I'm being dead serious." He shakes his head and holds a hand up. "Wait, hold on, though—you're not freaked out?" 

You just shrug. "I read a lot of vampire fiction when I was a teen. Still do sometimes. I kinda always thought vampires are real, like mermaids. Sounds childish of me, but you can't really know if something doesn't exist unless you find definitive proof, right?"

Hyunwoo just blinks at you. "You're… You're not afraid?" 

You laugh. "No, why would I be? Being a vampire sounds cool—I mean, obviously not everything about it is nice, but the concept is cool, at least." You stand and hike a strap of your bag over your shoulder; Hyunwoo does the same and you start walking to the stairs.

Your friend hums. "I guess it is pretty cool. If you don't count the violent thirst every couple weeks. And the not aging bit—although that has its perks, too." He watches you toss your trash in the designated bins, and keeps in step with you down the stairs. 

"Exactly! You see—totally cool, right?" you say. You toss the other strap of your bag over your shoulder. "Since you told me this, you don't mind me asking you questions about your thing, right?" 

He shakes his head. "Can't promise I can answer them all, but sure."

"Great! Be prepared for a hounding at the restaurant, Hyunwoo."

Hyunwoo smiles down at you, eyes crinkling up in amusement. "Bring it on."

[yuthoe]

Midnight Sun (PENTAGON: Jo Jinho)

HIIIII

sooooo it's been roughly almost a year since i last posted (i'm blaming it on burnout, working on dnd fics, being busy with the youtube channel, and generally tired from work). but i am back with another fic and the first on the list of my currently untitled Vampire!AU Collection!

i'm planning to do all the guys i write for, by order of age, so it doesn't feel draggy if it looks like i'm focusing a lot on one group. this is also the first time in almost a year that i've completed a reader insert fic, so it might (be bad) feel disjointed or stiff at times. i'm sorry jinho, u were the sacrificial lamb

regardless, i hope yall like it, and look forward to the next fics!

PAIRING: Jinho x gn!reader. GENRE: fic, fluff. WARNINGS: vampire!au—contains mentions of blood & genre-typical injuries; mild profanity. WORD COUNT: 2,531.

MASTER LIST

---

You heave a big sigh as you close the apartment door behind you, and drag your feet towards the lifted entryway. It takes some of your self-control to not just toss your work bag in the corner, leave your toed-off shoes cluttering the floor, drop your blazer in a messy pool on the shoebox. Work today has left you drained, with barely any energy left to get ready for bed.

As you slog through a meager leftover dinner from last night, a quick shower and soak in the tub (where you almost dozed off), and your nightly skincare routine with half-closed eyes, you wonder how your boyfriend is doing.

Jinho broke the news to you a couple of months ago, about being cast in a musical as one of the alternates for the male lead, and told you that he’d be coming home late at night because of rehearsals. You’re not sure when he does get home because you’re usually halfway to dreamland by 9PM on work days, but you just figure it’s very late, considering he’s still out cold by the time you wake up the next morning.

It’s like you two are passing ships, meeting long enough just to wave a hello, and then going your separate ways again.

As you get comfortable in bed, you glance at your phone, the only thing illuminating the dark room—8:30PM. They should be having dinner right about now, so you send him a short message:

Hi, honey. About to sleep; work tired me out. Have a good rehearsal day and get home safe. Love you. <3

You tuck yourself beneath the covers and stare at your phone on the nightstand, waiting for it to light up with a notification. But your eyes are heavy and your mind is foggy, and slowly you succumb to the sweet lure of sleep.

—

It is 1AM by the time Jinho gets home.

He knows the production staff didn’t mean for the rehearsal to run this late, but there was a lot to cover and the premiere is just around the corner. At this point, later and later nights might become the norm; he makes a mental note to ask the company if he can ask for a car to take him back home after rehearsals. He somehow managed to snag a ride with one of his castmates, but he knows it’s not going to work again.

He clears his throat some as he trudges down the hallway to the unit he shares with you. His legs feel weird, wobbly from overexertion and going back and forth across the stage. He stops every few paces to bounce on his heels to keep the nerves awake.

Shaking hands fiddle with his keys to unlock the apartment’s front door, which takes a while due to his spinning vision. If anything, Jinho attributes all this to the usual cooldown after practice—years of being active (whether as an idol or in the military, or as any of his cover-up occupations throughout history) has got him used to these sensations as nothing more than post-workout fatigue, and nothing else.

So when he finally gets the damn door open, and drops his bag by the entryway, and toes off his shoes, and is reaching to drape his jacket over the nearby coat rack…

He collapses.

—

You blink awake at the loud, heavy thud. It’s a struggle to straighten out your bleary gaze as you pat the nightstand for your phone to check the time, the bright display screen once again making you squeeze your eyes shut.

Jinho is still out, as evidenced by the cold sheets beside you, but maybe the loud thud is just him accidentally closing the door a little too hard. So you press the heels of your hands to your eyes for a moment before getting up and meeting your boyfriend at the door.

“Jinho?” you call out, stifling a yawn as you drag your feet down the hall in your house slippers. “Honey, are you home?”

There is no answer—no padding of feet, no rustling of clothes. Your brows furrow at the silence, and when you round the corner into the living space, with a direct view of the entryway, you take off running.

“Jinho!” Your knees scream in pain as you drop into a crouch in front of him, unconscious on the floor, pale and sweating, face scrunched up. You pat him gently on his cold, clammy cheek. “Baby? Baby, wake up!”

A groan is your only response, and you wonder how hard it’s going to be to carry a full-grown man all the way to bed.

—

The first thing Jinho sees when he wakes up is the small chandelier with faux-glass bulbs you’d installed to spice up the living area. It’s about two years old now, and the landlady still hasn’t noticed that you’d replaced her boring old light. The world behind the gauzy curtains is still dark, meaning it hasn’t been long since he got home.

His mouth is dry and his throat is tight, like there’s an itch he can’t scratch. He groans again as he tries to slowly sit up, the thin blanket you’d draped over him slipping from his shoulder. But as soon as he’s upright, his vision swims and he drops back onto the throw pillow.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, groaning into the air.

A few seconds later, he hears your feet pad around the corner from the bedroom. His gaze lands to you, your face the picture of worry as you make your way to sit next to him on the couch.

You hold his cold hand, gently brush his bangs away from his face. “Are you okay? You had me worried a little.”

His brows furrow as he tries to recall what happened, but as much as he tries to think through the ensuing headache, he remembers nothing.

“I… What happened, exactly?” he asks, voice scratchy and dry, sounding like barely a whisper. “I can’t remember a thing.”

You bite your lip, squeeze his hand as you answer softly, “I don’t know. I was sleeping, and then I heard a loud thud by the door. I thought you just closed it really loudly, but when I came out to meet you, I saw you. On the floor. And you wouldn’t wake up when I called your name, and I was really scared—,”

“Sshh, it’s okay,” he says, cupping your face, reassuring you of his presence even though he feels like he’s being set on fire from the inside. “It’s okay… I’m here, honey.” He softly strokes the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

You hold his hand in both of your own, lean into his comforting touch. “Sorry, it’s just… I’ve never seen you like that before.”

"I know, baby, I know. I'm sorry for scaring you." He has an inkling of why he might have collapsed, so he tries to think back on what he’s been doing for the past few days. “I think I know what happened, though.”

You lower your entwined hands to your lap, fiddle with his fingers as you wait patiently.

“Do you remember when I last fed?” he says, face scrunched in concentration. “Because I can’t either.”

It’s then that you see the red film covering his irises, and the realization hits you like a truck. “I have no idea.” You sigh loudly and wipe a hand over your face; you should have realized as soon as he opened his eyes. “God, I’m so stupid. I should have realized.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Jinho scolds gently. “I’ve never gone this off-schedule since the early 1800s. And because of that, I never told you the symptoms of extreme hunger.” He lifts his hand again and brushes your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “It’s not your fault, okay? If anything, it’s an oversight on both our parts.” He wishes he could lean up to kiss away the furrow in your brow, but his limbs are too numb. 

"I'm gonna feel bad about it for a little while, though," you say, brushing away the bangs that cover his eyes. "Should I check the fridge for bags?" 

Jinho smiles—telling you that he's a vampire is probably one of the smartest things he's ever done. "Yes, please." 

"Do you have a preference?" you ask. When he shakes his head, you lean over to drop a kiss on his forehead and whisper, "I'll be right back." 

"'Kay," Jinho says simply, eyes trailing your figure as you slide in socked feet towards the small kitchen.

Sometimes he wonders what life would be like if he didn't bite the bullet and tell you about his condition. It'd be doubly frustrating and exhausting for sure, on top of constantly needing to lie and hide his true self from you, which he never liked doing in the first place. When you've lived a long, long life like he has, lying is a necessity; telling half-truths and concealing intentions becomes second nature. But when he finally met someone he wanted to spend the rest of their life with… well, things had to change.

Though his hearing is muffled from the dryness of his throat, he still hears you pad back into the living area and come back into his frame of sight to sit next to him on the couch. There is no sign of blood bags.

“So, bad news,” you start. “There’s no more bags in the fridge. I checked the small one in the bedroom too, but it’s all out.” You worry your lip, not looking at him. "What do we do?" 

Damn. Jinho is sure he still had a stock of bags, but it seems he's more out of it than he thought. Everyday has been a routine of wake up, go to rehearsals, go home, sleep, with barely any time to eat in between.

Jinho goes through every possible contingency in his foggy brain, but comes up with nothing. With a groan, he croaks out, "I have an idea… but I don't know if you're gonna like it." After taking so many precautions to make sure this wouldn’t happen, he can’t help but be disappointed that he let it get this bad.

But you shake your head, determined. "Anything to help you."

—

Jinho groans as he settles back against the couch cushions, feeling his bones rattle with every move he makes. You position yourself beside him, back towards him, as close as you can without crushing him.

“A little closer,” Jinho softly says, fingers slowly ghosting their way to grip at the fabric of your shirt at the waist as you adjust yourself. “That’s it. Lean back.” He feels you shiver as you follow his instructions, shifting your weight back until you can feel his cold breaths by your ear.

His hand seeks out your own, shaking and balled into a fist. “Last chance to change your mind,” Jinho whispers. “Are you sure about this, honey?”

You swallow hard and nod. “Yep. I’m sure.” You open and close your hands, trying to dispel the nerves that make your limbs stiffen, and reach for your boyfriend’s hand. There is absolutely no reason to be scared—you know Jinho is careful, and would never intentionally hurt you. You reach up with a hand and comb your hair away from your neck, exposing the skin to his hungry eyes, and tug away the neckline of the loose shirt you’re wearing.

Jinho tucks his nose into your neck, breathing in your scent as the hand on your waist crawls forward to rest on your stomach. It could just be the intense hunger, but Jinho swears that you have the most intoxicating scent in the world. He feels you take another deep, shaky breath.

“Relax, baby,” he whispers, licks a wet stripe up your neck as his thumb rubs your knuckles to calm you down. “It’ll hurt just a bit.”

The piercing pain that followed his words isn't that bad, but you still make a surprised whimper. His sharp fangs puncture through the sensitive skin like it was nothing, and the thought of them being so inherently dangerous sends a shiver down your spine.

Jinho groans as your blood floods his tongue, the initial metallic taste giving way to a sweet and syrupy flavor. He’s never imagined having you like this; you’ve crossed a line and you can never go back.

You sag against him, body relaxing as he gets his fill of you. He feels the strength returning to him as he drinks—his breathing has returned to normal, he isn’t shaking with every movement, and his throat is soothed, as if he just drank a pitcher of ice cold water on a hot summer’s day. At some point, the hand that was clutching your shirt moved to cup your chin and guide your head the way he wanted, while the fingers of his other hand entwined with yours.

He finishes off the meal with one last lick to the puncture marks to seal off the wounds. Gentle hands immediately guide you backwards to rest against his chest. Jinho lets you calm down from the high you must have felt while he was feeding, before asking, “You okay? Do you feel dizzy? Or nauseous? I can get you some water in a bit.”

You chuckle at his mother-henning. “I’m all right, Jinho. I think I just need a minute.” You burrow yourself deeper into his hold, bring a hand up to his cheek and look into his eyes from where your head is settled on his shoulder. The warm, chocolate brown shade that you love is back; no trace at all of the intense scarlet from earlier. “I’m glad you’re okay now, though.”

Jinho leans down, sponges a kiss on your smiling lips. “I am. I can’t thank you enough for this, it’s… I know it’s a big step. And honestly, I was a little scared you’d just run away because it’s too much.”

But you just shake your head. “I told you: I wanted to help. Losing a little blood isn’t a big deal if it was to help you feel better.”

Your boyfriend groans playfully, securing his arms around your middle and burying his face in your shoulder. “How could I be so lucky?” he whispers, mostly to himself. He feels your fingers gently card through his hair as you both relax. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say, cuddling closer.

And when you get the feeling back in your fingers and toes, Jinho sweeps you up in his arms and carries you to bed, promising he’d be back with some water and a granola bar. He leaves with a soft kiss to your forehead. You watch as he ambles back into the kitchen, looking even better than he did a week ago when you last saw him properly.

The digital clock on the nightstand blinks 2:09AM, and you briefly worry about how you’re have to wake up in five hours for work, before saying fuck it, and getting comfortable in the blankets as you wait for Jinho.

Work be damned—you are going to spend some quality time with your sweet boyfriend.