speaking as the least objective person in the world. nobody makes loserboy music like pentagon nobody does silly little dances like pentagon nobody embodies happiness and fun onstage like pentagon
Mutuals get a lot of love on this site but I think we should also appreciate the random followers who you see in your notes regularly. The ones who you'll probably never end up following but they like and reblog almost every post you make. The ones who you see and go "hey I recognize that person!! they love my posts!" every time they show up in your notifications.
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.
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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.”
dededos
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