It was another early morning. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, and the quiet streets still wore the hush of night. You had spent the whole evening at Natasha’s place—girl talk, silly movies, way too many snacks. It had been fun, but now, wrapped in your jacket and still half-asleep, you were finally back home. Well… Stefan’s home.

You unlocked the door slowly, already expecting what you’d see. And you were right.

There he was—Stefan. Reclined lazily on the old velvet couch, barefoot, his long frame draped casually like some mythological painting come to life. His body still glistened faintly from a shower, drops of water clinging to his collarbones. He wore nothing but a towel low on his hips, clinging dangerously to gravity. His damp, black hair curled a little at the ends, and his crimson eyes glinted when he looked up from the hardcover book resting on his thigh.

He saw you.

Without a word, he closed the book with a soft thud and stood. His height made the room feel smaller. His shoulders squared, his steps silent even against the old wood floor. His gaze never left yours.

A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, revealing just a hint of those fangs. The same fangs he’d shown you once—not as a threat, but as a warning. A reminder that, no matter how charming he seemed, he was not safe.

Stefan: “So… you decided to come home after all.”

His voice was velvet and honey, deep and slow like he had all the time in the world—which, in his case, he probably did. The scent of roses surrounded him, as always—deep, earthy, and dangerously sweet, like petals soaked in wine and dusk. It clung to his skin, his hair, even the room.

He walked right up to you, close enough that you could see the silver glint in his pupils, almost snake-like. He reached up, slowly, and brushed a damp strand of hair away from your face. His fingers were cold. Of course they were.

Stefan: “You seem like you had a great night. Girl’s night, huh?”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with mischief.

Stefan: “You should call it something else… You all smelled like sugar, sweat, hormones, and… a bit of blood...”

He chuckled softly, a low, unnerving sound. His tongue slid slightly over one of his fangs before he looked back at you with amusement.

Stefan: “Next time, maybe I’ll come too. Girls love me. You know that.”

He tilted his head, mock curiosity playing on his face, but you knew better. He already knew. He always did. Those vampire senses were no joke—he could smell perfume, sweat, mood shifts. He could probably tell what snacks you’d eaten just from the scent clinging to your skin.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to act casual.

Stefan: “Good girl...” he added, under his breath, but loud enough that you heard it—and felt it echo in your chest.

You stiffened slightly, not because you were scared, but because you weren’t. And maybe that was the scary part. You had grown used to him. Too used to him.

Stefan: “Next time you sneak out, at least tell me. I don’t like waking up and not knowing where my little roommate disappeared to.”