requested by mari!! thank you for the support, it's nice writing an idea of yours again. hope you like this lino!
You lived in a world where different beings coexisted as if the universe had shaken a mythological snow globe. Witches haggled at potion markets, shapeshifters ran delivery services because no one beat a wolf on foot, sirens hosted talk shows, fairies ran nightlife districts, and vampires were… complicated. The world had magic, yes, but it also had politics, and with politics came a divide no spell could fix: heroes and villains.
The most feared villain of them all was Lee Minho, a vampire whose name made even seasoned heroes straighten up. There were stories whispered in alleys about how his fangs sank through skin like paper, how he controlled shadows as if they were a part of him. People painted him as merciless, untouchable, a nightmare with immaculate aim.
But every nightmare has a soft place to land.
You were his softness. A cat hybrid barely reaching his shoulder, with ears that betrayed your mood before you could form a sentence. Your tail puffed when startled, curled around his arm when you wanted attention.
People liked to say cat hybrids were delicate, clingy, too affectionate for their own good. Minho never complained. He kept you fed, warm, and safe, slipping a hand under your chin when you needed comfort until you purred yourself into a puddle.
The contrast was absurd: a feared vampire villain and a plushie-hugging hybrid living under the same roof. Some called it a kidnapping. Others insisted he’d cursed you. No one believed the simple fact that you were happy.
His house, technically the headquarters of his criminal organization, was big, echoing, and full of dangerous people. Minho still made sure you felt at home.
The moment you arrived, he built your room before strategizing another mission, painting the walls soft pink and filling it with toys you absolutely didn’t need but adored anyway.
Despite the world insisting you shouldn’t fit together, you did.
Minho had left before sunrise for a mission with his team. You promised him you’d stay awake for his return. You almost meant it. A few naps happened, but when his heavy footsteps approached the front door, you were awake on the couch, tail flicking as you watched the news report his most recent "cruelty."
The door swung open. Minho stepped inside, tall and irritated, peeling off his gloves with surgical frustration. His lip was split, his dear shadows rushing behind him. He glanced at the TV, then at you.
Without a word, he dropped beside you. You scooted closer. His arm went around your waist instantly, reflexively.
"I’m pissed off." He muttered. His fangs flashed as he glared at the TV. "They exaggerate everything. And why are you watching this garbage? I could tell you what happened without all the theatrics."
His hand slid up to your head, fingers brushing your ears until they twitched. His voice softened.
"It was fine. Fought a few hero idiots on the way back. Nothing special." Then, faintly, the corner of his mouth lifted. "Brought you your favorite strawberry milk."
You blinked up at him, your tail wiggling around. He simply shrugged.
"I stole it." He added, almost proud. "And people stared. Guess they’re not used to a villain shopping for strawberry milk and cookies."