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magicshopaholic · 1 day ago

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Tbh I got this idea during a very similar afternoon so I had to write it 💁🏻‍♀️ glad you liked it!

A Joint Decision

Summary: Two friends catch up on a beautiful day in Amsterdam.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC, Yoongi x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Humour, friendship, mild angst

Word count: 5 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: smoking ig?

A/N: Yes, it's me, rearing my overworked head from amidst PPTs and strongly-worded emails. No prologue to this, just hope you enjoy it. Takes place about a month after Pretty Girls.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @faearchives @margopinkerton @purpleseoul7 @confessionsofamarshlily@whoisbts @jihopesjoint @kflixnet @cuntessaiii @nightappple (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: "with a little help from my friends" by the beatles

namjoon masterlist | yoongi masterlist | main masterlist

Kaya takes a seat at the outdoor table that the waitress gestures to and frees her hair from its scrunchie, shaking it out. The sun is bright today, but the umbrella over the table helps and her sunglasses block out the remaining.

As she examines the menu, she senses a shadow fall over the table. Looking up, she raises an eyebrow.

“A pretty lady, sitting all alone?” His tone is dry, betraying only a hint of sarcasm.

“Unfortunately, my boyfriend has to work.” Kaya tilts her head slightly. “Unless you could convince him to take a break.”

Yoongi flashes her a grin as he takes off his sunglasses, and takes the seat opposite her. “If you can’t, I don’t know who can.”

Kaya rolls her eyes, partly amused, and hands him the menu. “The hazelnut latte is to die for,” she informs him, taking off her own sunglasses and squinting slightly at the sudden brightness.

“I’d love to, but I’m on tour,” he says, sounding regretful. “How’s the regular cold brew?”

After going back and forth on the coffee for a couple of minutes, both of them place their orders for food as well.

“So? How’s tour going?” she asks, leaning back in her chair. “Tell me something exciting.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Tour is the least exciting time. Aside from performing, of course,” he amends. “But otherwise, pretty boring.”

“What? That can’t possibly be true. I always hear so much gossip when you guys are on tour or travelling. I remember following the Taehyung and Dilara Europe saga like a reality show, just minus the Reddit commentary.”

“Yeah, it’s not the tour that’s exciting, it’s the number of people on tour,” he points out. “You can’t tell me those two weren’t living in their own k-drama half the time. But touring solo is… different.”

“Wow,” she comments, raising her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’re actually missing them? Remember when you asked me when kids outgrow the sugar rush phase?”

Yoongi chuckles, presumably at the memory. “Shockingly enough, I am missing that. But, yeah.” He shrugs. “It’s almost done. Just Seoul after this and then…” He trails off, biting his lip.

She nods, ducking her head and feeling an awkward relief when their coffees arrive. The day hasn’t yet reached the point where such topics need to be brought up. “Any hot after party plans tonight?” she asks, stirring her Vietnamese coffee.

“God, no,” he replies. “Actually, that might be the only thing I don’t miss about a regular tour. It was fun with all of us being together, but it was so hard to get some sleep.”

“No way. Really? Wouldn’t everyone be tired?”

“You would think. But someone would be playing a video game or there would be something to film -” He shakes his head dismissively. “I’m not young anymore, you know. I need my rest.”

“Thirty really came out of nowhere, huh,” says Kaya knowingly.

“Tell me about it.” Yoongi shakes his head, leaning away from the table as their food arrives. Even when the waitress leaves, he doesn’t immediately begin eating like Kaya does. “Would you believe it if I told you my mother asked me about my plans to marry?”

Kaya almost chokes on a piece of bread. Yoongi swears under his breath as she gulps down water before guffawing. “Wow, I wish I could’ve seen that,” she teases, laughing. “But it’s not entirely unexpected, is it?” she adds after about half a minute, still chuckling.

“Actually, it is,” he disagrees, “because I don’t think I’ve hinted at anything that might cause her to ask such a question.”

Kaya raises her eyebrows but says nothing. The girl she’d met at Hybe, the slender one who’d spoken with an Australian accent and glanced at Yoongi the way a teenager looked at her first crush, comes to mind. But something tells her Yoongi would rather stick his fork in his eye than admit anything to her right now.

“So what’d you tell her?”

“The correct thing,” he replies, stabbing his eggs, “which is nothing at all.”

“Sounds about right.” She takes a sip of water. “If it helps, my mom asked me the exact same question a little while ago, so I get where you’re coming from.”

Yoongi gives her a mild look as he chews. “I think it’s a much more realistic scenario in your case.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can expect Namjoon to get down on one knee any day now,” she says sarcastically, before pausing. “Actually he’s done that already so I probably shouldn’t joke about it.”

He chuckles. “You know, if he finds out you want a proposal right now, I bet he’d do it,” he says seriously.

Kaya widens her eyes and scoffs when he grins at his plate. “Don’t even think about it, Yoongi. He sounds so stressed every time I talk to him. The last thing I want is for him to get a heart attack at twenty-nine over some random relationship pressure.”

“I don’t think it would be all that much pressure, honestly.” He shrugs. “From what I can tell.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather not take that risk.”

“He’s gotten a lot better at managing his stress over the years,” points out Yoongi. “I don’t know if you know this, but we’ve lived together for almost thirteen years.”

Kaya takes a slow sip of her coffee and nods. “It’s come up.”

“So I can confirm he’s getting better at it.”

“No, I know he is,” she admits, sighing. Her concern is slightly different, but she doesn’t know if she can put it into words. She doesn’t even know if she should, for fear of jinxing it.

She can sense Yoongi’s gaze on her and busies herself with sprinkling seasoning over her remaining breakfast. “Are you planning to come to Korea any time soon?”

“Yeah,” she answers. “Namjoon and I are meeting in Spain in July, so I’ll probably come around September. Before he leaves.”

He hums, a little too knowingly for her liking. “What’s in Spain?”

“A vacation?” She sighs, stretching back in her chair. “Summer in the south of Europe, eating paella and going on road trips across the country. But, you know,” she amends, straightening back up. “With his family this time.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “You’re not nervous,” he states.

“I’m not nervous,” she replies, a little too quickly. “It’ll be different, though. But I like his sister,” she adds honestly. “I’ve realised I’m not great at bonding with girls outside of uni.”

“I’ve heard differently,” he disagrees. He meets Kaya’s eyes, who says nothing, until his cheeks start to redden and he looks away. “We’re not strangers, you know,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

Kaya grins, no need for her to ask who “we” is. “I should count Dilara, though,” she admits, choosing not to embarrass him any further.

“Oh, yeah, it’ll kill her if you don’t.”

She nods, polishing off the last of her panini and sitting back in her chair. “What about you, Min Yoongi? Any vacation plans?”

“Not really,” he says dismissively. “I’m not really a vacation kind of person.”

Kaya squints, unimpressed. “Really? You don’t like vacations? Be less of a pick-me, Yoongi.”

Yoongi snorts, his gummy smile flashing momentarily and lighting up his whole face. “I’ve been travelling for three months, non-stop. I love touring but the thought of getting back on a flight again…” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his long, thick hair. “I miss home way too much. I want to just stay in Korea for as long as I can for a bit.”

“Yeah?” She tries to picture it, staying in her apartment and walking around Amsterdam for the entire year and decides she can’t. “Will you take time off, though? Or will you head back into the studio the moment you set foot in Seoul?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Is it? Workaholics can recognise each other in the wild, you know.”

“I miss the studio, too,” he says, sounding a bit defensive. “I miss my chair and the lighting. I miss the creative energy and the other producers and… even the coffee, honestly.” He sips on his cold brew as if to make a point. “Not bitter enough,” he informs her.

“I’m sure the barista will get right on that,” she says dryly. “But fair enough. Your studio is your happy place.”

He nods before his gaze freezes abruptly on something across the street. A moment later, his eyes flicker back down to his plate and he sighs.

“Looks like I’ve been spotted,” he mutters. “Get ready to have your picture splashed on the internet for ten minutes before people move on.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she mutters in response, trying to ignore how her body tenses automatically. “Do you want to leave? We can take the rest of our coffee to go.”

He huffs quietly. “But it’s so nice here,” he half-whines. “No, but you know what? Namjoon will overthink himself to death if you end up on Twitter again,” he says quickly, standing up, “and that’s not what he needs right now.”

“Well, you are the one who’s lived with him for thirteen years,” she agrees, standing up as well, as they both reach for their wallets and drop a couple of bills on the table. “So I’ll take your word for it.”

—

As it turns out, the fans who’d spotted him didn’t seem to have taken any pictures. But Yoongi doesn’t mind strolling about the city. Amsterdam is beautiful and it is a rare situation of having a day off in a city where he actually has a friend.

They talk about nothing in particular, flitting between work and friends and movies they’ve seen as they sip on chilled coffees, the sun dimmer than it was a while ago. Yoongi can sense that Kaya is trying to keep the tone light, and he’s almost certain it’s due to their impending enlistment.

“That spot right there,” says Kaya, after a few minutes of comfortable silence, pointing to a spot by the pier, “is till where the line ended when the first boba place opened up here a few years ago.” She shudders. “It was madness.”

“You weren’t in line, I suppose?”

“Sure I was, but I had the sense to get there early,” she replies with dignity. “And I brought a research paper to study while I waited so who won, really?”

Yoongi chuckles as he finishes his coffee and chucks the plastic glass in a nearby bin. “It’s too early for a drink, isn’t it?” he asks ruefully.

Kaya laughs. “I’d say so. But I get what you mean,” she adds after a moment. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing to take some edge off.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You know of a place that won’t judge us for ordering drinks at -“ He checks his watch “- one pm?”

“Not exactly,” she admits, taking a noisy last sip of her Vietnamese coffee and throwing the empty glass in the next bin. “Do you remember that night in the dorm when I was jet lagged and everyone else was asleep?”

Yoongi slows down. “And I reached late from the studio, with…” He raises his eyebrows again, noting how she nods.

“Come on,” she says, patting his arm and beckoning him to follow her. “My apartment’s just around the corner.”

Ten minutes later, Yoongi finds himself in Kaya’s apartment, a one bedroom studio that reminds him of a college dorm combined with a student library. Academic books and stacks of stapled pages litter the chipped coffee table and the circular dining table by the kitchen, with stray cups abandoned here and there. The television looks untouched, but the sofa is soft and cozy, with a woven throw placed over the back.

“Pass me the paper?”

Yoongi obeys, taking a seat on the carpeted area like she is and leaning back against the side of the sofa, his head cushioned against a HYBE hoodie. He pushes the curtain forward slightly, taking care to ensure he can’t be seen from the outside and wondering if he’s being paranoid.

“There we go,” she mutters, licking the edge of the paper and twisting the end expertly. Reaching for a lighter on the shelf beside her, she places the joint between her lips and lights it, taking a deep drag and groaning softly as she exhales.

She offers it to Yoongi and he takes it without argument. The smell is a rare, almost taboo one, and he welcomes the freedom with which he can indulge in this right now. He feels the smoke exit his sinuses through his nose and sighs, closing his eyes.

He takes another drag, realising somewhere the risk he’s taking if he were to be discovered stoned by anyone aside from his manager. His eyes flutter open at a metallic sound to see Kaya sliding an ashtray towards him before settling low into a beanbag chair, stretching her denim clad legs straight on the floor and crossing her ankles.

“You’re sure we won’t be seen?” he asks her, a bit doubtfully as he passes the joint back to her.

“Who knows,” she murmurs, which doesn’t help him much. “But no one will care,” she adds, sounding more convinced this time. “Most of this building is just students. Or TAs. And it’s Amsterdam.”

Kaya gives him a reassuring smile, but he can see her eyes already relaxing. Yoongi nods, not hating the feeling of being somewhere other than a hotel.

“So how often do you do this?” he asks curiously.

“Not that often,” she answers, shrugging. “Once every few weeks, maybe? Sometimes more often, but then it’s just a few drags, not more.” She shrugs, a little sheepishly. “It’s been a long few weeks.”

“No judgement,” he states honestly, taking another puff. The sun has disappeared behind clouds now, just as she’d predicted, and there’s a cool breeze that feels like it’s putting him to sleep. “You smoke up with Namjoon, too?” He asks, privately unable to picture it.

“Nah, he’s not a fan,” she admits. “He thinks it ‘compromises his faculties’. But it’s better than nicotine,” she points out.

“True,” he says fairly. “You know, I’m looking forward to going home for sure but… sometimes it’s good to get away,” he confesses in a murmur.

Kaya hums. “I’m sure.”

“Everyone’s worried about enlisting,” he says after a moment. “But no one wants to talk about it - which I get, believe me. But it’s coming out in other ways and it’s just -“ He breaks off and exhales.

Kaya doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Yoongi is afraid he’s ruined the mood. “Like what?”

“Just the usual.” He shrugs. “We were on a team call a couple days ago and it just got so… chaotic. Everybody just had to be heard and Namjoon started getting overwhelmed and I started getting impatient…” He trails off, still uncomfortable about it. “And then at one point, Taehyung and Jungkook started snapping at each other over something silly and then there was no point continuing,” he finished.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I think Hoseok mediated later but I’m not sure how much. Can’t really blame him, though,” he adds, shaking his head. “He’s happy now - like, really happy. Probably happier than the rest of us put together.” It’s a few seconds before he realised what he’s said. “I mean - Namjoon’s happy, too,” he adds quickly. “He’s - I mean, we’re all -“ He struggles for the word, and it occurs to him that his brain is actually moving slower than usual.

But thankfully Kaya chuckles. “It’s okay. I get what you mean. Hard to match Hobi’s level of happiness on a normal day.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, relieved. “He used to overcompensate a lot for that when we were younger but he’s become a lot more comfortable in his skin now.”

“Aw, look at you talking so fondly about your kids,” she teases, making him roll his eyes but unable to suppress a smile. “I’m sure you grew up quite a bit, too. You give me serious teen emo vibes, you know.”

“No way, I was too hardcore for that,” he argues, waving a hand lazily. “I was a rapper.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen pictures.”

“I have pictures. In fact -“ He fishes out his phone and navigates to his gallery, the screen changing with a smooth and flowy movement. “Tell me I didn’t look at least a little out of place,” he says, passing the phone to her.

Kaya takes it excitedly. “Min Yoongi opening the vault,” she remarks, the joint propped between her index and middle finger as she holds the phone. “Who would’ve thunk?”

“Well, you got me nice and high.”

She chortles, swiping through the screen. “Hardcore as hell, Yoongi,” she admits, “especially with the headband.” She keeps scrolling, ignoring his scoff of disbelief. “Wow, I wish I’d met you guys back then.”

“You wouldn’t be dating one of us if you had, trust me.”

“That’s probably true,” she agrees good-naturedly. “Oh, my God,” she says after a moment, her jaw dropping as she tilts the phone towards him to reveal a picture of a lanky, skinny, grinning seventeen year old Kim Namjoon.

Yoongi peers at it and nods. “Yes, I stand by my original statement.”

“Shut up,” she admonishes him, taking another drag and admiring the picture. “He’s so cute.”

“He was such a dork,” he adds, but he can hear the grudging warmth in his own voice.

“Cute,” she repeats. “This is probably what my son will look like one day,” she muses, before pausing, her smile fading slightly. “Wow, this stuff is strong,” she comments, placing the joint on the ashtray and handing Yoongi back his phone. “Shut up,” she warns him as he bursts out laughing.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” he says in between his laughter, glancing at the picture again before locking his phone.

“I can’t either,” she admits, looking embarrassed as she runs her hands over her face. “Don’t you dare tell him I did.”

“I’m afraid I can’t promise either way,” he says wryly, knowing he would never. Kaya rolls her eyes but doesn’t press, and he thinks she knows as well. “You’ve thought about that stuff, though?” he asks after a moment. “You really want kids?”

“Absolutely,” she says, without missing a beat.

Yoongi knows for sure it’s the weed that’s making him actually ask these questions so directly, but he can’t seem to stop. “Wow. You guys have talked about it?”

“Not in so many words,” she admits. “But if he hasn’t picked up on it in four years, then we’ve got a problem.” She stretches and sighs, looking out of her balcony as Yoongi lights the end of the joint again. “Do you really think he’s happy, though?”

He frowns slightly; all the joking seems to have left her voice very suddenly. “Of course he is,” he says, hearing his voice come out slow and soothing. “With you, definitely.”

After what seems like ages, Kaya responds.

“Sometimes it feels like…” She trails off, and he isn’t even sure if she’s meaning to say it out loud. “Sometimes it feels like he’s… thinking too much. And he’s thinking so much and he’s analysing and overthinking and… I don’t know if he remembers to be happy.” She bites her lip and Yoongi doesn’t know if he’s imagining the tremble in her voice. “I don’t know if I can do anything about it.”

Yoongi blinks; despite his mind swimming, it’s clear in a slow and bleary way that he cannot let Kaya think like this. It would disrupt everything. “Not true,” he blurts out, frowning when she looks over at him. “He is happy. He’s stressed and overworked and - and -“ The English word escapes him “- thinks way too much,” he says finally, echoing her words. “But you might be the best thing that ever happened to him.”

Kaya looks doubtful, but a shaky smile flits across her face. Yoongi nudges her foot with his.

“Trust me. I’ve known him for thirteen years.”

That makes her chuckle. “That’s true, you have,” she agrees, rubbing her eyes and sighing. “This is the downside of getting high sometimes.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he says reassuringly. The joint is almost over by now, but Yoongi can’t remember feeling this relaxed in a long time. “It’s just a matter of time before you and Namjoon have a bunch of babies who write poetry about Economics and skulk around museums all over the world.”

Kaya laughs, and Yoongi is glad to hear it. “Don’t make me regret saying that in front of you,” she says, throwing a cushion at him. He catches it and slides further down on the floor, placing it underneath his head and facing the ceiling.

Outside, it starts to drizzle. Kaya produces a bag of soy chips from somewhere and even though there’s a faraway voice in the corner of his mind that sounds like his choreographer, reminding him that he’s on tour, his hand moves automatically towards the chips, each one tasting better than the last.

Kaya’s ceiling is a dull beige, with a fan just off centre. It bothers him, but the rain outside hits the roof over her balcony in a somewhat rhythmical cadence, and he finds himself tapping the air with the beat.

“Do you talk to her often?”

The words tumble out of his mouth before his brain has a chance to think it over.

To his relief, Kaya doesn’t ask who. “Sometimes. She’s not particularly talkative.”

“That’s true.” Something loosens in his chest, something he didn’t even know was tight in the first place. He realises it’s the first time in months he’s talked about her to someone who isn’t her colleague. “Is she… how is she?”

“Okay, I guess? I don’t really have a benchmark,” she says. There’s a pause. “Why do you ask?”

Yoongi is glad his thoughts aren’t particularly coherent right now, for he isn’t sure how to articulate the combined emotions of worry, affection and longing in the particular context of Miso’s life and his place in it. His desire to be back home, in Seoul, in the Hybe building and in the same corridors as her feels overwhelming all of a sudden.

He talks to her, too - but it’s not the same, knowing that she might be a different person with someone else, with a personality, interests and a way of talking that he hasn’t seen. He doesn’t know how to express that learning anything about her, even the smallest thing, can help him feel just a little closer to her.

Perhaps Kaya senses this, for she volunteers the information herself.

“We talk mostly during my evenings, which means she seems to be working late these days,” she offers.

Yes, that makes sense. She’s working on an album with Donghyuk for a group’s much awaited comeback, so it would fit that she’s burning the midnight oil. He imagines it if he were back home: stealing a few moments during a coffee break, walking her to her car until the point her driver can spot them, sharing a cigarette in the darkness between kisses that are all lips and tongue and teeth.

“What do you talk about?” he asks, placing his hands under his head, his eyes trained on the slow spinning fan.

“Random stuff,” answers Kaya. “I asked her for recommendations for an offbeat record store in Seoul because I wanted to get a Lana del Rey vinyl for Jae-Lin.”

“Which store?”

“This place in Jung-gu. I can’t remember the name.”

A record store. Yoongi is quiet for a few seconds, digesting this. “What else?”

“Um…” Kaya hums absently while rain picks up outside, the breeze now sprinkled with tiny droplets of water. “She told me about Australia. Of course, it came up in the context of how Seoul has a dearth of good lamb chops. But apparently Cable Beach is her favourite one.”

Cable beach. This is new information. As far as Yoongi knows, aside from mentioning her studies in Australia as a throwaway, she’s never talked about her life there. “She likes the beach,” he states, the words sounding strange on his tongue.

“Well, Australia is like eighty percent beaches,” points out Kaya. “God, I miss the beach. We should all take a trip to Ibiza,” she announces suddenly. “I’m gonna text Namjoon - wait…”

Yoongi has the sudden urge to call Miso, casually at first, but then to ask her to tell him about the beaches. For a moment, he struggles to remember the name Kaya just mentioned, but then it comes back to him. Cable Beach.

He glances at Kaya, who hasn’t even picked up her phone, and is instead humming softly while tracing a shape on the floor with her shoe.

“What else do you talk about?”

Kaya continues humming but frowns mildly, before looking up at him. Something in her gaze makes him look away, and he shrugs unnecessarily.

“Not much,” she answers after a moment. “Apparently Hybe needs to improve its coffee on the floor.”

“Anything else?”

“Not really.”

He exhales deeply, fairly certain she’s still watching him. He bites his lip, staring steadily at the off centre ceiling fan.

“She did mention you a couple times,” says Kaya, after a few beats. “Something about how much you curse under your breath while producing.”

A merry jolt passes through Yoongi’s stomach without warning. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. And she said you’re a lot less annoying than you were the first time you met two years ago.”

Yoongi nods matter-of-factly. The sky is a cool grey outside and the fine droplets of water in the breeze feel sublime on his skin. He gazes at the fan, his chest floating easily at what can only be considered a compliment of the highest order from Miso.

A soft clicking sound makes him snap around to look at Kaya, who’s lowering her phone. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” she says innocently. “Just a picture of Min Yoongi looking the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”

It’s at this point that he realises he’s been smiling - no, not smiling, but beaming - at the ceiling, and he can feel the blood rush to his face.

“Kaya,” he says warningly, but he hears it come out more pleadingly than anything.

“You have a very nice smile, you know,” she says kindly.

“I - thank you. But -“

Kaya simply smiles back at him and he relaxes, suddenly sure that she knows what he’s asking and that she’s accepted.

“You’re serious about her, aren’t you?” she asks, and all the teasing has left her voice.

Am I? Ordinarily, he would say yes. But he can’t fathom using terms that apply to regular relationships to their… situation. “It’s not that simple,” he says at last.

“I can tell she’s… going through something. But I didn’t want to pry. She never talks about her family,” she adds.

That sounds about right. “Speaking of not being happy,” he mutters.

“She isn’t?” But it hardly sounds like a question.

“I don’t think she’s even trying to be,” he murmurs, shocking himself a little at this admission. But the moment he says it he knows it to be true, that any fight left in her is only enough to get by.

Yoongi feels his face burn and his eyes sting. Kaya excuses herself to use the washroom and he’s instantly sure it’s to give him privacy. He sniffs and presses his thumb and index finger into the corners of his eyes, taking a deep breath until he can feel his face come back to normal.

He sits up, his head feeling light but steadier than it was a little while ago. The view outside is beautiful, stormy yet calm, and Yoongi’s legs take him to the balcony of their own accord. Kaya joins him a minute later, and they watch the rain for a bit.

“I should head,” he says, turning his towards her slightly.

She nods. “Okay.” She doesn’t offer for him to stay over for which he’s glad, knowing they both would like their evenings to themselves.

“No wonder Namjoon likes coming here so often,” he muses. “Aside from seeing you, of course,” he adds, and she chuckles.

“Will you ask him to… to take it a little easy?” Kaya asks, looking up at him, her eyes brown and wide and doe-like. “Just once in a while. Just to live in the moment.”

Yoongi nods. “Of course. Don’t worry,” he says after a moment. “He knows what’s important. And before you know it, you’re going to have a bunch of little Namjoons and Kayas and teaching them to roll joints in Korean.”

She snickers and punches his shoulder half-heartedly, shaking her head as he puts an arm around her shoulders. “Bunch is a little much. And I don’t think I’ll be teaching them either of those things. Pot is a college rite of passage and… for someone with Korean family members and a Korean boyfriend, I suck at the language,” she mutters shamefully.

“It’s not easy,” he reassures her, squeezing her shoulder. “You can practice, though.”

“I try every time I go back there,” she tells him, sounding disgruntled, “but I can hear how terrible I sound and it makes me so self-conscious that I just… can’t. Dilara is a lot better,” she adds enviously.

“Yeah, for someone who doesn’t live there, she’s not bad,” admits Yoongi. He drops his arm from around her, knowing the day has come to an end. “Alright.”

“Yeah.”

They turn around together and cross the expanse of her tiny living room until they stop at the front door.

“Have a good concert tomorrow,” she says as they give each other a friendly hug. “Can’t wait to read the thirst tweets after.”

It’s his turn to playfully flick her shoulder. “Eat something decent tonight. Not chips,” he adds. “And, uh…” He swallows, his eyes flickering to the floor.

“Yeah?” she asks softly.

“Will you…” He doesn’t know where to start. “Will you… just ask her about Australia, once in a while?”

Kaya nods. “Absolutely.”

“Thanks.” With one last one-armed hug, Yoongi heads back to his hotel.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#notes🍷#namjoon x kaya #yoongi x miso #oddinary4bts

52 notes · View notes

cutehoons02 · 4 days ago

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Bad Romance

Desire:Unleash Jake pt Sunghoon pt

*pairirng: CEO dad vampire Park Jay x baby-sitter human Girl

*pairirng: grumpy x sunshine

*pairirng: Jay has only one wish: to be a good father and always be there for his daughter. Jenù was born from a meaningless one-night stand, and six months after her birth, a staff member at the Park Society found a baby girl with forest-green eyes and tiny red flecks, Jay’s same smile, and the same birthmark on his neck. She came with a note from the girl who couldn’t handle becoming a mother—especially not to a child who was half-human, half-vampire. Since that day, years passed. Jay had fired over twenty babysitters human, vampire, witch, and more—until one day, Sunghoon’s girlfriend told her best friend, who was struggling financially, that Jay was looking for a new babysitter. From that moment on, your life, as well as Jay’s and Jenù’s, changed forever. You are bold, dangerous, always sarcastic and you adore Jenù. But to Jay, a vampire over 300 years old, you're a dangerous distraction, especially when you're around his daughter. He's gruff and strict, only softening when he's with her, and in his eyes, you're just a reckless young woman… with blood that tempts him too much and a mouth that's far too bold.

*pairirng: At first Jay finds you extremely annoying and thinks that you are just an irresponsible girl but slowly she falls in love with you, you love teasing him, Jenù (Jay’s daughter) many times takes your side, warnings, overprotective dad, a lot of kisses, bites, Blood reference, masturbation (f) reverse cowgirl, (bath sex) unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) Jay would like to put on family with you, jealousy, white lies, possession, Jay is a secular vampire, +18, pet names (little human,treasure,maiden)

19k (🍷)

Being a twenty-two-year-old girl in Seoul in 2025 was a form of legalized fraud. When you were little, they told you that you could become anything if you behaved well if you were pretty and kind to everyone, if you got good grades both in school and at university—but it was all bullshit. At twenty-three, you had become an exhausted student, an underpaid barista, and a living statistic in Gen Z burnout.

You went back and forth from your university like it was a punishment mission: classes at 9 a.m., then a huge gap until 5 p.m., and in between a barista shift at a coffee shop that looked cute only on Instagram, infested with screaming fans and idol-themed drinks that all tasted like sugar, bubblegum, and despair. The café you worked at was in central Seoul, where all the K-pop agency buildings were, where the idols trained, andrecorded music and so every day, you had to witness a swarm of crazed fans coming in to buy coffee or snap photos just because, once, their favorite idol had taken a picture and signed an album at your "K-pop themed" café.

The coffee you served was awful, the K-pop playlist? As repetitive as a nightmare on a loop. And don’t even get started on the pay. It was trash. Only your vanilla-whipped cappuccino gave you some reason to exist in the morning as you walked into the shop, still with toothpaste in your mouth and zombie's eyes after staying up the night before to study. And it was that very coffee that saved you today. Your best friend was already sitting, stunning as always, with two cups in her hands, and she handed you one with a smirk.

"You look like a zombie but an adorable one!" she said, ruffling your hair. "I am a zombie. A living, labor-exploited zombie. Used and abandoned by God." You yawned and dropped into the chair with the dignity of a wrinkled T-shirt. She giggled, and you envied her a little always so fresh, fragrant, happy, dating a vampire CEO who took her around the world like she was a model and not a former student from your department.

"At least you have a boyfriend who takes you to Paris and New York. I’ve got a professor who smells like ginseng and depression," you said, eyeing the latest designer bag she had resting on her thighs and shivering at the sight of the bite marks from Sunghoon’s fangs. She bit her lip, which was never a good sign—especially since you’d known her since high school.

"Don’t be mad, okay?" she said with that pouty little smile, and you immediately rolled your eyes. "If you say ‘don’t be mad,’ it means I will be mad," you said, closing your eyes and resting your head on the table. "I gave your resume to Jay Park." You groaned and curled further into yourself. That name gave you chills worse than the morning cold.

Jay: the other CEO and Sunghoon’s business partner, one of the richest and most famous company owners in all of Korea. The aristocratic, brooding vampire with that predatory gaze, zero smiles and zero emotions.

"You’re insane," you snapped, glaring at your best friend. "He’s looking for a babysitter, and you love kids," she said like it was a normal thing to hand over your CV to that man. "Jay Park isn’t looking for a babysitter. He’s trying to scare the human race into extinction. And I don’t like him." "Don’t be dramatic. He has a daughter, and she’d adore you. Jenù is a sweetheart," your best friend said, sipping her cappuccino. “His daughter, maybe. He’d throw me into the Han River after my first yawn."

She laughed and leaned closer to you. "He’d give you room, board, and a real salary. No more rent. We could use my old apartment as an office or study space, and you could finally stop serving frappés or coffees with idol faces on top." You shivered again because deep down, the idea was horrible but the offer was tempting. And… the only beautiful thing about Jay Park was his daughter: Jenù. You’d seen her twice, and both times, you saw a small, shining heart trapped in the darkness of a broken father.

The Park Society building rose in the heart of Seoul like an elegant shadow: a black glass tower carved into the sky, surrounded by soft lights and windows that looked more like a Gothic castle than the headquarters of a modern multinational. It was a place where power had a very specific scent: amber, smoke, and control. With trembling fingers, you adjusted your spaghetti-straight hair as you stared at your reflection in the mirrored elevator. Your makeup was simple, almost student-like—or maybe too simple, considering all the perfect vampire women who worked for him—but the black blazer over your white shirt gave you just enough of a grown-up look to distract from your smart jeans and the only pair of heels you could walk in. In your mind, heels were for graduations, parties, or… interviews with billionaire vampires. You hated them, even though you studied fashion and knew a heel could turn any basic outfit into something chic. But when the doors opened, the scene was surreal. Humans rushed back and forth, buried under phones, laptops, and documents. Vampires, flawless like living statues, walked silently among them as if the entire world were a board game and they were the main pieces. Everyone moved under one name: Jay Park. Jay wasn’t just one of the most powerful vampires in Korea—he was a living legend in both the human and supernatural worlds. For over three centuries, he’d been turning bankrupt companies into empires, and random numbers into frighteningly accurate predictions. And then there was his charm: deadly, cold, magnetic. Yet somehow, every woman dreamed of having him. He was intelligent, carried himself like an old-world gentleman, always had a sharp remark ready, and was the kind of man or rather, creature who could break you with a single look or word. But for the past few years, the world had discovered one detail that made him… just a little bit human. He had become a father.

The news had exploded in the tabloids like a bomb. A half-human, half-vampire child had been found on the doorstep of the Park Society building, wrapped in a violet blanket with only a letter in her tiny hands. From that day forward, Jay Park swore he would give everything for Jenù, his daughter and he did. With obsessive control. With fierceness. With protection. With love. Jenù was adorable. Barely four years old, but already had the face of a little star: huge wine-colored eyes, golden skin inherited from her father, and a smile that melted even immortal hearts. Under her father’s strict supervision, she’d already become a model for famous brands—probably earning more in a month than you did in six. And you? You were just standing there with a crumpled resume in your bag, half a hope, and a heartbeat pounding way too fast. Because you knew—everyone knew—that Jay only wanted the best for his daughter. And he had already fired twenty-nine babysitters. You, with your all-too-human clumsiness, your big mouth, and your incurable curiosity, silently prayed not to become number thirty. You sat down on the black leather chair in front of the marble desk of his secretary, a woman in her fifties with a tight bun and a powder-pink tailored suit. She didn’t even look up from her screen as she said, in a monotone voice,

-Mr. Park and Miss Jenù are expecting you. You may go in.- The phone rang at that exact moment, and while she answered with chilling professionalism, she gave you a small hand gesture, pointing toward the dark double doors behind her.

When you stood up, your heart was beating in your temples, and your fingers clutched the strap of your bag tightly. Your heels, though uncomfortable, suddenly felt like they were made to give you strength. The secretary led you to the door, and just before opening it, she whispered with a hint of a smile, -Good luck.-

Yeah… that was already a bad sign. If Jay Park’s secretary told you good luck, you knew you were in trouble. But honestly, what did you have to lose?

Nothing. Worst case? He wouldn’t like you, and you'd see him maybe twice a year—at your best friend’s birthday and Sunghoon’s. So, when the door opened, a scent enveloped you instantly: the sugary sweetness of fruit gummies mixed with something much older, deeper, warmer… like aged whiskey in oak barrels and ancient blood.

The office was huge, silent, bathed in soft light filtering through heavy curtains. The desk stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked all of Seoul, and behind it, staring at his monitor, was Jay Park. He was typing something on the keyboard with fast, precise hands and didn’t even lift his gaze when he spoke in a deep, neutral voice:

“Introduce yourself briefly. Tell me your work experience, and whether you’ve worked with children. Speak now or you can leave, I don’t like wasting time.”

Damn. Welcome to corporate hell, you thought. With an aristocratic vampire as your judge. But you didn’t look at him right away. Your eyes were immediately drawn to her. A little girl with long brown hair tied into two messy braids and large forest-green eyes speckled with reddish flecks, catching the light like gemstones a clear sign of mixed blood. She stared at you, serious and curious, with an unopened candy in her fingers.

You crouched slightly and smiled, offering her your hand, which looked so big next to hers.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.”

Jenù looked down at your hand, touched it with fingers slightly cold but strangely warm like a heart that hasn’t decided whether to beat or not and then, solemnly, said: 'Nice to meet you. I’m Jenù.'

She showed you her little teeth, a mix of human and vampire, and you giggled. “The candies you’re eating… those are my favorites too,” you whispered like it was a secret between partners in crime. “But when I was in elementary school, I ate so many I had to get four cavities filled because of all the sugar.”

Her eyes widened, then she laughed a clear, bright sound that cracked the tension in the room. 'Daddy only gives them to me when I do something good. Like… saving the world.' You leaned forward, resting your hands on your knees like you always did with kids. 'Oh? And what good thing did you do today to earn them?' Jenù wrinkled her nose and said proudly, 'I helped Uncle Hoon hide some documents before that annoying yelling lady found them.'

You barely held in a laugh, but a smile escaped your lips. 'Oh yeah, that counts as saving the world—at least a little.' Then she looked at you with a solemn expression and repeated, 'Work experience. Have you worked with children? Speak now, we don’t have much time.' You froze for a second, then burst into a light laugh.

“Wow. You’ll make a perfect heir to your dad’s company. You’ve learned well.” And only then did you lift your gaze toward him. Jay was watching you. Still, unmoving, mouth slightly open as if he hadn’t expected someone to walk into that room and ignore him completely. As if seeing his daughter laugh like that so naturally, was something he missed… or feared. But you didn’t look away. You didn’t bow, and you didn’t care about the social gap between you. You looked at him like a man who didn’t scare you yet, and that threw him off.

Jay clenched his jaw, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower.“You’re not like the others.” And you, with a boldness that surprised even yourself, replied, “Good thing. Otherwise, I’d already be out that door, right?” Jay clenched his jaw again as you extended your hand toward him. It was such a simple, common gesture, but the way you did it straightforward, without hesitation, with that annoyingly human and confident gaze caught him off guard for a moment.

Still, he took it. The contact was brief, but enough to confuse you.

What was that spark? Fear? Anxiety? Warmth? Desire? You couldn’t tell.

But he was… too much. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/n. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at Sunghoon’s birthday and my best friend T/l’s, who’s also his girlfriend.” You smiled, a little too brightly for his stiffness. “I’ve worked with kids a lot even back in high school. Right now, I work at an idol-themed coffee shop… which is babysitting, but with screaming thirteen-year-olds obsessed with photocards and smoothies with idols’ faces on them that cost almost as much as dinner.”

Jay looked up from your resume and fixed his sharp gaze on you.“You talk too much.” You laughed lightly, brushing some hair from your face.

“It’s one of my superpowers. It usually works well with kids… and customers who haven’t had their coffee yet.” From the desk, Jenù stood up on tiptoe, came closer, and studied you from head to toe. Then she grabbed your hand in her small fingers. 'Daddy, look!' she said, pointing at your decorated nail. 'She has a tiny teddy bear on her finger! I want one too!' Jay raised an eyebrow, and his gaze dropped to your hands.

“Not very professional, but… I suppose it’s better than the red witch claws the last babysitter had.” Jenù laughed out loud, and you leaned closer to her. “When you’re older, you’ll be able to have them too. But for now… maybe we can draw them on with markers. What do you think?”

'Really?!' she beamed, eyes sparkling.

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” Jay interrupted, his voice low and controlled, but irritated at seeing his daughter so enchanted by a woman who wasn’t his mother—or grandmother. You turned to him calmly and replied with a steady tone, “You don’t crush a child’s imagination, Mr. Park. You adapt it. And besides…” You turned back to Jenù with a warm smile. “It’s a small promise. And small promises are meant to be kept.”

Jay gave a low, almost inaudible growl—like an animal being disturbed. But Jenù ended the conversation with a decisive tone: 'I want her. Daddy, I like her as my babysitter.' She turned quickly to you and grabbed your hand again. 'Do you know how to do braids?' “I can do braids, ponytails, crown twists, even bows made of hair. Want me to show you?”

Jenù nodded eagerly. 'Daddy took two months to learn! He watched a bunch of TikToks and YouTube videos and kept messing up!' She covered her mouth with her little hands, and you did the same, laughing softly. “Two months? Really?” you asked curiously, glancing at the man in the suit sitting across from you. 'Swear!” she laughed. “The first time I looked like a cactus!'

Jay gave her a look, but it wasn’t stern. It was intriguing. Slightly amused by what was unfolding. And silently, he watched the scene with a strange gleam in his eyes. His daughter was at ease. Smiling. Bonding with someone in mere minutes—something that never happened. You gently tapped her nose.

“But hey, don’t tease your daddy too much. He did something really sweet for you. Not every dad would learn how to braid hair for their little girl.” Jenù lowered her gaze and nodded as if those words had landed right in her chest. Then she ran behind the desk, and Jay picked her up with almost shocking tenderness, lifting her in one fluid motion. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered something in his ear.

He turned back to you. “You start this weekend,” he said, voice flat, but eyes sharp and fixed on you. “Don’t make me regret letting you near my daughter.”

You smiled. “I won’t, Mr. Park,” you said. “I get attached to children easily but only to them. Adults… are more complicated.” Jay raised an eyebrow. “Welcome to hell, then.”

Jay Park’s apartment looked like it had been pulled straight out of a luxury design magazine. The moment you stepped inside, your eyes widened and you muttered under your breath, "Why wasn’t I born into some rich, aristocratic family too…"

The enormous sofa in the center of the living room looked so soft it could probably swallow anyone who dared sit on it. In front of it, a massive 55-inch TV was embedded into a wall of matte black glass. On the low shelf below, a perfectly aligned series of framed photos caught your eye and instantly melted your heart.

Jay and Jenù smiling, goofy, captured in candid moments of quiet intimacy that no one would ever expect from a centuries-old vampire with perfect hair. There were photos of them at the pool, at the beach, dressed for the mountains with Jenù riding on Jay’s shoulders. All four birthday photos were there too every year—with him, his daughter, and the ever-present trio: Jake, Heeseung, and Sunghoon, Jay’s best friends and Jenù’s honorary uncles. From the open kitchen with its central white marble island, full of fancy utensils and high-end appliances. you could see Namsan Tower rising over the misty hills, bathed in the golden glow of sunset.

“It’s… breathtaking,” you whispered to yourself, more than to them, as your eyes wandered around the house. Jenù grabbed your hand and tugged you down the hallway.

'Come see my room! It’s the best room of all the rooms!' Her room looked like a private theme park. It had everything: miniature castles, stuffed animals, tables with puzzles, “educational” human toys… and some things that had to be vampire toys (like a doll that moved its eyes on its own and had tiny fangs—and stared at you for a bit too long for your comfort).

But it was her actual bedroom that took your breath away. A gothic Disney princess kingdom: blush pink and black velvet everywhere, a canopy bed with hidden lights, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, hand-embroidered pillows, and closets full of dreamy little dresses. You wanted to be a kid again just for one night to sleep there and play with all the toys you used to dream about having.

'And… that’s Daddy’s room,' she said, pointing to a sleek dark door. 'You can only use it if there’s an emergency,' she added, extremely serious.

Behind her, Jay appeared like an elegant shadow, leaning against the doorframe.

Rule number one: no entering my room. Ever. Unless it’s a real emergency.”

His eyes scanned you from head to toe. “And by ‘emergency,’ I don’t mean ‘I need the Wi-Fi password’ or ‘where are the chips.’”

You raised an eyebrow and muttered dramatically,

“I have no intention of entering the wolf’s den… oh, wait, the wrong creature. You’re a vampire.” You bit your lip, and Jay shook his head slowly while Jenù giggled, covering her mouth. Jay shot you a sharp, slightly intrigued look. He then led you to what would be your room on the nights you stayed over. It was simple but elegant a queen bed, a reading nook, a private bathroom, and… a breathtaking view of the Han River.

You walked over to the little table by the window and noticed a neatly printed sheet of paper. There were two columns, one titled "Human Rules", the other "Vampiric Rules", and above them, bold text read:

HOUSE RULES – FOR EVERYONE’S SURVIVAL

(Edited 7 times, updated after the Exploding Plush Incident)

Human Section

No candy after 7:00 p.m. (Unless it’s Saturday and Jenù has saved the world.)

No watching TV shows with a yellow or red warning icon.

Never leave Jenù alone in the bathroom. NEVER. You must stay with her at all times.

Do not wake up Daddy if he’s resting after a “red” meeting.

No incense or garlic in the kitchen. (Seriously.)

Vampire Section

If you hear whispers or strange noises at night, ignore them. It’s probably the neighbor. Or… maybe not.

If Jenù says there’s a shadow under the bed, it’s probably just her imagination—but check anyway. Safety comes first.

Do not open the small fridge on the left. You’ll only open it if I tell you to because it contains blood vials from the Blood Bank—the specific type Jenù drinks.

If I say “disappear,” then disappear. But stay within three meters of Jenù.

If you need to call me about a problem… count to 3. Then call. (Doesn’t apply to real emergencies: fire, blood, accidents.)

You burst out laughing.

“This is the most dramatic list of rules I’ve ever read. I’m 22, not 3—I can handle myself,” you said as you scanned the quirky guidelines. Jay shot you a death glare. “They’re not funny. Those rules could literally save your life.” “Wow, okay, Dracula 2.0, but seriously live a little. I’m not worried, and more importantly, Jenù will be fine with me.” He crossed his arms, voice dropping lower.

“Even if you’re the best friend of Sunghoon’s girlfriend, that doesn’t mean I trust you. Not yet and maybe never. I don’t know who you are, I don’t know if you’re good for my daughter, and I’m not about to find out the hard way. So follow those rules, and we’ll get along.” Your smile faltered for just a second before you lifted your chin and replied,

“Then watch me, Mr. Park. It doesn’t take much for me to prove I’m capable of what I do and I do know how to take care of a four-year-old. Maybe you’re the one keeping her too tightly bound to rules that are… a little questionable.”

For a moment, silence. Only the muffled sound of Jenù giggling in the other room. Then he turned away. “Dinner’s at seven. And don’t you ever presume to tell me what’s right or wrong for my daughter again.”

It had been almost two weeks. Two weeks in which, to your surprise, you were still there. Still in Jay Park’s house, still “working” for him—though by now, it felt less like a job and more like a secret, comforting routine you’d grown to love. Jenù had slipped under your skin with the same ease she used to grab your hand when crossing the street or when telling you her wild dreams full of dancing bats and floating castles.

Every day, after your university classes, you pick her up from ballet or theater. Her cheeks always flushed, her bun always undone—and the moment she saw you, she’d run into your arms with the biggest smile and two tiny teeth… a little sharper than the day before. And she’d look at you like you were more than a babysitter, something she secretly wished all her friends had too. One evening, in the bathtub, while she played with bubbles, she nearly gave you a heart attack by flashing her canines proudly:

'Look, they’re coming in! Daddy says it’ll be my ‘change’ soon… Are you scared?' You’d fake-faint in fear at her little growl and she’d burst into laughter, sending water flying everywhere. Colorful bubbles filled the bathroom, and every day the bath bombs smelled like something sweet or floral. It had become your favorite part of the day—watching her relax and play with vampire-shaped toys, rubber duckies with fangs, or little fish that sprayed water. You often made a mess together in the kitchen, and she’d solemnly swear:

'I won’t tell Dad, I promise. Not even under hypnosis.' She’d pinky swear it, and every weekend you baked something: chocolate chip cookies, banana bread, muffins… One time you even decorated them with bright red sugar “fake blood.” When Jay got home and saw them, he stood in front of you, arms crossed, voice low and sharp:

“You just put fake blood on pastries for my daughter to eat. Do you have any idea how irresponsible that is...”

He didn’t get to finish. You burst out laughing right in the face of his CEO-dad-vampire attitude, and something in him softened for the first time since you’d met. He huffed… then actually smiled. A real smile with fangs on full display: long, slender, lethal… and disturbingly attractive to your messed-up mind that kept whispering you should stay away from him.

That evening, after washing dishes with Jenù—covered in flour and syrup, with a bat-shaped crêpe you named “Bat-crepe”—you both snuggled under a pink-and-black blanket on the couch.

“Have you ever watched Monster High?” you asked. She gave you a suspicious look, raising one eyebrow just like her father.

'Daddy doesn’t let me watch horror stuff.' “It’s not horror, I swear! They’re girls… monstrously fashionable. One’s Dracula’s daughter, one’s a mummy, another’s like… a super-stylish werewolf. And they all go to a school for magical creatures. My favorite’s Draculaura—I wonder who yours will be.”

Jenù was quiet for a moment. Then she said, 'If you say it’s not scary… I trust you.' You pulled up YouTube, found the first episode, and as the bright, catchy theme song started, Jenù began bouncing her shoulders.

'I like the music!' she said, waving her arms, and when Draculaura, Cleo de Nile, Frankie Stein, Lagoona Blue, and Clawdeen Wolf appeared on screen, she pointed. 'Her! The one with the fangs! She’s so pretty!'

“That’s Draculaura! That’s exactly her!” you nodded. “She’s like 1600 years old, totally vegan, and always has trouble with her wings—but she’s adorable.” Jenù slowly nestled against you. It was the first time she did it without thinking, without saying anything. She gave you her tiny, warm hand, and in a soft voice while watching the show, she whispered:

'I wish I could go to a fashion monster school too.' You gently stroked her forehead. “You already do, sweetheart. You’re a stylish little monster.” She smiled, and you swore right then and there you never wanted to move from that moment again.

The sharp sound of the door opening broke the spell on the couch. You and Jenù turned your heads in perfect sync, like a well-rehearsed choreography. Confident footsteps echoed on the polished parquet, followed by the soft creak of shoes being taken off and set neatly by the entrance.

Jay was home.

You watched him walk into the living room: hair tousled from the wind, jacket slung over his shoulder, tie slipping through his fingers. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt and yes, you lingered there a second too long. His skin was warm-toned, golden-amber in color, so unlike Sunghoon’s pale, moonlit coolness. Sunghoon looked sculpted from Nordic marble.

But Jay… Jay was like liquid honey over dark stone. With every inch of skin revealed, your cheeks burned hotter. You couldn't stop staring as he loosened his custom-tailored suit and then, his eyes locked with yours.

He froze. Time seemed to hang off his frame. His eyes narrowed, sharp—like he was reading you like he knew exactly what was running through your head. His jaw tightened just slightly.

Shit. You felt it. Knew it, without a word. He didn’t like that look in your eyes, too curious, too bold but… he didn’t look away either. Luckily, Jenù broke the tension, bounding toward him with bubbling excitement.

“Appa! We’re watching Monster High! There’s Draculaura! She has teeth like mine!” Jay crouched slightly to catch her as she launched into his arms. He shot you a look sharp enough to cut through bone. You braced for his usual complaints.

“Monster High?” he asked, turning slowly toward you. “I told you I don’t want her watching scary stuff. She’s too young.” You raised your hands in mock surrender, flashing a diplomatic smile. “Jay, come on. The scariest thing in this show is how Ghoulia talks. Maybe Cleo’s shrieking fits. But monsters? They’re fashion bloggers.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like you putting ideas in her head. Influences form now. Today it’s Draculaura, and tomorrow she’s wearing black capes and bat-winged platforms.”

You bit your tongue to avoid pointing out those exact shoes were already part of two Korean brands’ fall/winter collections but before the argument could escalate, Jenù took control.

“Appa, why don’t we all watch it together? Just one episode. Then you’ll see if it’s okay.” Jay kissed her forehead, sighed, and nodded. “Alright. I’ll go change first. Ten minutes.” He gave you one last glance slow, calculated. A look like velvet… with blades sewn in.

A mix of unspoken disapproval… and something else. You looked away, pulse a little shaky. You squeezed Jenù’s hand, reminding yourself where you stood but when the theme song kicked back in and the little girl began to dance, for one perfect moment, you forgot everything.

Everything… except her little fanged smile and maybe, just a little, that golden vampire who would be back in ten minutes. When Jay returned to the living room, he paused in the doorway. The scene was almost surreal.

You and Jenù were curled up together, eyes glued to the screen, giggling at an absurd scene where Cleo de Nile ranted about how everyone dressed at school and how she was the only one with real taste. Jenù laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth with her hand. Then she looked at her father, eyes shining:

“Appaaaa, this cartoon is so good! I wanna go to a school like Monster High!” Jay raised an eyebrow, dropped his tie on the sideboard, and gave her a strange little smile tender and oddly conspiratorial.

“For you, my little one… I might just build you one.” He brushed her hair back, and your heart pinched for a second. The deep voice, the strict face… and then that look, that melted only for her. Jay came over and sat on the couch next to Jenù. But she turned to him with a firm look: “No! I wanna sit here!” and before he could respond, she crawled right into his lap, curled into his chest, burying her little head into the crook of his neck.

Cleo screamed again onscreen. Jenù giggled. Jay cracked a joke: “She sounds just like you when you can’t find your pink headband.”Jenù smacked his chest with her hand: “Appa! Not true!” “Alright, Miss Fashion—who’s your favorite?” you asked Jenù with a grin.“The same as yours! Draculalla!” she shouted, mispronouncing it adorably.

“Draculaura,” you corrected, giggling.

“Yes, her! She’s pink and black and makes braids better than Appa!” You scooted closer—partly because Jenù reached out her hand to pull you in. Your knees brushed Jay’s. You felt… warmth. He gave you a glance, then murmured with that deep voice:

“Careful… You’re starting to look like part of the monster family. And no one gets out of that." “Wow. Romantic threats, Jay. Very on-brand,” you muttered, eyes rolling playfully. “Watch the sass… or I’ll put you in time-out with Cleo,” he said, smirking faintly.

Jenù quickly cut in: “Appa, be nice! I like her. I love her.” Jay raised an eyebrow. “And what have I taught you about saying that, Jenù?”

She straightened her back, proud as ever: “That you only say ‘I love you’ if you trust someone.” “And you’ve known her barely a month…” he started.

But Jenù shut him down with that fearless honesty only children have: “But I do trust her. A lot. And I like her so much.” She took your hand in hers, small and warm. You squeezed it back, your heart melting. Jay watched. Something inside him broke or maybe healed. Something he didn’t quite recognize: the warmth of your presence, the blind trust his daughter gave you, your hands always linked—ready to go anywhere and something shifted inside him. A knot. A flicker a need not just physical (though that was there too—boiling under the skin every time he looked at you)

No. This was something deeper. More dangerous than hunger. More terrifying than blood.

What if she belonged here?

He barely had time to process the thought before the three of you burst into laughter—Ghoulia was babbling nonsense in zombie-speak on the screen. The room felt alive and you were there, part of it all. Because you brought light and joy into a house that had been drowning in routine.

You had just tucked Jenù into bed and now stood outside Jay’s study, nervously biting your nails. Tomorrow, near the university campus, there was going to be a party for final-year students—and you needed to go.

It had been months since you spent a weekend with people your age instead of watching cartoons and drawing bat wings. You loved Jenù and your job, but you missed the wild, carefree side of yourself. So, tonight... you were going to tell a tiny white lie to your boss. And honestly? You hated lying—especially to him, the vampire with a dangerously attractive pair of fangs that could rip through you at any moment if you pissed him off.

You took a deep breath and knocked, heart hammering in your chest.Jay was seated at his desk, bathed in the amber glow of a desk lamp. The light carved out every line of his sculpted features. His shirt was undone halfway, revealing golden, defined muscles and a faint blue vein tracing along his neck. In one hand, he held a blood pouch, still half-full. In the other, he scrolled through corporate reports on a curved screen.

He didn’t even look up.

“Come in.” His voice was rough, slightly annoyed, but you stepped in anyway, clinging to the hope that your little lie might work. He looked infuriatingly indifferent, flawless in his world of silence, power, and spreadsheets. And yet… you couldn't help but look at him.

You caught yourself thinking—with a pout that betrayed a hopeless crush—“If he wasn’t Jenù’s dad…”

“What do you want?” he asked, eyes still locked on the screen. You took one step closer and tried your best innocent and slightly dramatic voice.

“Tomorrow… I won’t be able to take care of Jenù.” At that, Jay finally looked up.

“Why?” His tone was cold, direct almost too sharp for a man who had just been drinking blood. You hesitated, you could still bolt. You could say something stupid and backpedal but your best friend—who also happened to be Sunghoon’s girlfriend had warned you:

"Vampires detect lies. They hear your blood shift, your heartbeat, your heat. Be careful. Fake it well, and maybe he’ll say yes."

You decided to risk it. Crossing your arms over your chest, you said, “I have an extra class tomorrow night. Advanced coding. I need to work on some content for my final project. Graduation’s close and I… really want to do well.” Jay stared at you and then silence fell heavy silence. You could hear your heartbeat in your temples. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.

“…Fine.” Your eyes widened. “Wait—seriously? Like… that’s it?” A genuine smile broke across your face. Jay leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. His shirt gaped a little more, exposing more of that honey-gold skin, and your eyes automatically drifted to it.

“Yes. You’re good with Jenù. I never said otherwise. And if this class is important, I won’t stop you. Your grades speak for themselves.” “Wow. No CIA interrogation this time?” you asked, half-laughing. Jay glanced at the blood pouch in his hand and muttered, “You might wanna go before I change my mind.”

You dipped your head slightly partly in gratitude, partly to hide the color rising in your cheeks. It was the first time you felt… like a real accomplice.

“Thank you. Really. I promise this won’t become a habit. Skipping weekends, I mean.” Jay’s eyes lingered on you a second too long. Then he ran his tongue over his bottom lip and your gaze followed.

Your stomach clenched, and you felt the urge—the craving—to press your lips to his and just taste what those sharp, beautiful lips felt like.

“Don’t,” Jay said softly. “Because it’s not just my daughter who trusts you anymore.”

For a moment, something cracked inside your chest. It was the first time Jay had acknowledged anything beyond duty. The first time you weren’t just the babysitter and you were lying to him. You bowed slightly, instinctively. But it was more than that, it was a mask to hide your guilt.

Jay frowned. “What are you doing?” “Thank you. Politely. Not used to that in your world of shadows and fangs?” You tilted your head with a half-smile and as you turned to leave the study, you could feel his eyes still burning into your back.

And just before you stepped out… You thought (just maybe) you saw him smile but maybe…It was just the light.

Music thumped from the poolside speakers, neon lights rippled across the water, and your head swayed gently, your body moving with the beat. The party was buzzing with final-year students desperate to cut loose before diving back into exams and thesis deadlines—and you were one of them.

You were dressed lightly....okay, not even gonna pretend. You wore a top that barely covered your chest, hugging your curves like a second skin, a low-rise skirt that showed off the glint of your belly piercing, and your sun-kissed skin shimmered under the lights. Cowboy boots make your legs look longer, sharper, and stronger. You smelled like summer and something exotic, your favorite perfume.

You laughed with your best friend as if life were easy. Like responsibility could wait one more night. You were 23, and this was your moment. If not now—when? and then, you felt it. A presence behind you. A hand at your waist. A tall guy with light eyes and a rehearsed smile leaned down—just enough to speak close to your ear over the music.

-Easily the most beautiful girl I’ve seen tonight... maybe the whole semester,- he said, voice smooth, practiced. You turned with a half-ironic smile. “Wow. That your go-to line, or do you save it for special occasions?”

He chuckled. You didn’t but... you didn’t step away either. Your body was warm, your mind slightly hazy, and God...it had been months since anyone made you feel wanted. Not that you were interested. Your thoughts were already somewhere else.

Tall. Golden skin. Half-unbuttoned shirts. A daughter who felt more like your little sister. Jay Park.

You cursed yourself silently, there was a cute, young, available guy wanting to have fun, like most people your age and all you could think about was him.

That grumpy, overprotective vampire of a man who only thought about work and his daughter, and never himself. You remembered those looks, the ones he thought you didn’t catch.

When you bent over to pick up a toy or laughed too loud with Jenù, the way his eyes burned through you, then quickly turned away. You wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by him. To feel him over you—those large, strong hands gripping your hips.

That rough voice telling you he wanted only you, to learn how he liked it, and what made him lose control. What it felt like to be taken by him slow and then ruthless until you forgot where the babysitter ended, and the woman began.

God, you needed to have sex...but not with this guy. You stepped back, scanning for your best friend, catching her on the far side of the party and chatting with a group of friends. You tried to move toward her, but the guy behind you was a little too persistent.

“I’m not looking for attention tonight,” you told the guy in front of you. -Are you sure?”- he replied with a sly smirk. -Your friend’s already taken. But you… you don’t have a mark. I can see it. Smell it.-

You froze. You thought he was joking until you looked closer. The fangs were real. The glint in his eyes was too red to be normal. Panic rose like acid in your throat.

A rogue vampire. You stumbled back, heart pounding, then bolted for the bathroom, you slammed the door shut and locked it. Your hands trembled as you reached for your phone.

No answer from your best friend. Your cousin? Offline. The rest of your friends? Miles away and none of them were fucking vampires. You stared at the emergency contact you swore you’d never use...Jay’s number. Meant for Jenù’s emergencies, not yours. Especially not after lying to him about tonight.

You hit the dial with shaking fingers: One ring. Two. Three-

“What is it, Y/n? Done with studying already? Missing Jenù too much?” His voice was dry, sarcastic, and cold. “Jay…” Your voice cracked as a tear slipped down your cheek. “Jay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you, I...there’s a vampire. Outside the bathroom, he followed me, he knows I’m unmarked and I can’t find M/t and...” Your voice broke, the fear was raw now and our heart thundered.

Then....silence. When he finally spoke again, his tone had changed deeper, calmer, almost... human.

“Hey. Breathe. Where are you? Send me your location. I’m on my way. Are you alone?” You couldn’t tell if he was angry or terrified but you whispered, “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to lie. I’m M/t’s best friend. Sunghoon’s girlfriend. I...” “It doesn’t matter right now,” he cut you off. “Just listen to me: don’t open that door. Lock everything. Be silent. Try to text M/t. If you see anyone you know at the party, message them.” You nodded, even if he couldn’t see it. And in your chest, beneath the fear… there was something else.

Something twisted and dangerous a part of you wanted to see him. To hear his voice in person, to feel his arms around you, telling you it was okay. Maybe even...just maybe, he’d look at you and admit he couldn’t stop thinking about you. That he didn’t just want you as Jenù’s babysitter. That he wanted you underneath him, whispering his name as he finally gave in to the pull you both felt. But no, that was just your broken little fantasy. The one that lived in the dark, when your fingers weren’t enough anymore. Right now, you were just a terrified girl locked in a bathroom and outside… was a vampire who wanted your blood and maybe your body.

And Jay was coming but you didn’t know if you were trembling from fear…or from the guilt of lying to him.

The music still pounded through the walls, muffled, but the sound that froze your blood was something else. Two sharp knocks at the door and you thought the worst, until you heard his voice, the one you’d come to know all too well these past months, the one that sent shivers down your spine.

“Open the door. I'm Jay. Now.” Your heart shot to your throat. That voice was unmistakable, deep, and pissed. You knew he’d make you pay for this.

When you opened the door, your best friend was there, eyes down, shoulders hunched like a kid being scolded. Jay must’ve already gotten to her. Behind her, Jay himself. Tall, in an all-black suit, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled by the wind and stress, and he looked pissed, radiating fury. But the second his eyes landed on you, they softened just enough to make you crumble.

“I’m sorry,” your best friend whispered so low it barely existed. Jay scanned you from head to toe, and you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him in a trembling hug. “Thank you… really. Thank you for coming.” He stiffened for a second, then sighed, slowly resting his big hands on your back, pulling you closer, he didn’t want to be soft with you, he didn’t but it was too late.

“It’s over. You’re safe,” he said, low and close, holding you. After dropping off your best friend and making her swear not to tell Sunghoon, Jay warned her with eerie calm:

“Sunghoon will know the second he’s back. He’ll smell the alcohol, the other humans or vampires. Go shower before he gets home, and I’ll lie for you. I’ll say you went for drinks in Seoul with Y/n if he pushes. But from now on...you owe me.”

She nodded, biting her lip. Before leaving, she kissed your cheek and whispered, “Text me when you get home.”

When the car started moving again, Jay was silent...too silent and his eyes were fixed on the road, hands clenched on the wheel. You nervously bit your nail.

“I’m sorry…” you said, turning toward him, and wrapping your arms around your bare legs. “Shut up,” he said, eyes still forward, jaw tight. “I didn’t mean to… I mean were you sleeping?” you asked, your voice cracking, thinking this was it. He’d fire you. Erase you from his and Jenù’s life. All your fault. “I was trying to get my daughter to sleep. You know, the little girl you told you had to study for your thesis and rest. And I get it—that watching a kid every weekend is exhausting and you deserve to live your life. But you could’ve told me. I would've let you go. Instead, while she was showing me your drawings and asking where you were, you were in front of a mirror putting on makeup to go dance with some hormone-driven idiot or worse, into a fucking party with rogue vampires.”

You bit your lip, crossed your bare legs, and caught him glancing at your thigh a second too long. His jaw clenched. Finally, he turned toward you.

“So… how was your ‘computer science class’? The music sounded very… academic.” “Well, yeah… the DJ had a PhD in bass drops,” you muttered, trying to break the tension. He clenched his jaw again, then slowed the car and looked at you. His eyes had darkened—nearly black, flecked with red. His fangs were slightly visible.

One part of you panicked. The other… got turned on. “I left my daughter alone at night to come pick up a little girl who, one, lied to her employer. Two, lied to an innocent child. And three thought it was a great idea to go to a party full of drunk idiots and rogue vampires dressed like… a slut.”

His words hit you like hot blades. But the alcohol gave you courage—or recklessness. “You’re not my father, Jay. I have every right to live my life like any girl in her last year of university. I work too much, I earn too little, and sometimes I just want to forget that my life is a mess—with a vampire dad boss who looks at me like I’m a ticking time bomb and is always grumpy and full of himself!”

Jay laughed. A short, bitter, deep laugh that made your skin crawl. “No. I’m not your father who’s always grumpy with you, but I am the father of a little girl who sees you as home. And if you get lost, if you fall apart… she’s the one who pays the price. Got it? She loves you. And I’ve never seen her grow attached to anyone ‘outside’ our circle like she did with you—not Jake, not Sunghoon, not even Heeseung.”

Silence fell again in the car and you bit at your nail. Your cheeks were burning—and so was your chest. You looked at him, hands tight on the wheel, and without thinking, the words slipped out like sweet venom.

“Maybe that’s exactly what you want, Jay. What you keep trying to ignore something new. Something that makes you feel alive again. You want me to crash, to fall—so you can stop feeling guilty about wanting to love again.”He froze at your words. His knuckles turned white on the wheel and his gaze turned dark, hungry. He spoke through clenched teeth, low and hoarse like a strangled growl.

“You drive me insane. So shut up until we get home. ”You closed your eyes and curled into the seat, turning to face away from him.

Jay pulled into the underground garage with a sharp brake. He broke the silence with a heavy sigh, then turned to you and found you asleep. Curled up like it was something you did often. Your bare legs tucked to one side, head tilted, breath slow and uneven, smudged makeup, lips slightly parted. You looked innocent… and infuriatingly tempting even in your sleep.

“Why the fuck are you always a problem… even when you’re not awake?” he muttered through clenched teeth. He ran his hands through his hair like he could rip you out of his mind. He couldn’t leave you like that, not in that microscopic skirt that wasn’t a skirt, not with that scent on your skin that still made his blood burn. He opened your door with a snap, stared at you one more time thinking how beautiful and dangerous you were to his mental state, and then lifted your bridal style like you were his.

Your body molded to his naturally, your face nestled into his neck, fingers grazing his shirt. You curled into him and that cold heart of his sluggish and half-dead for years, started beating louder. He cursed under his breath. You were the only one who made him feel like a teenager again.

He rode up the elevator with you, the hum of the motor the only sound in the metal cage. He looked down at you nestled against his chest like you were made to fit there and for the first time, he thought: he should let you go but he wasn’t capable of it.

“Tomorrow I’ll tear you apart… I swear I’ll break you with words and then piece you back together just to do it again,” he murmured under his breath. He walked into the apartment without a sound, straight into his bedroom not yours and even he didn’t know why. Maybe he just wanted to wake up and see you there. Maybe he just wanted to remember you were real. And maybe… tomorrow morning you’d see the vampire side of him. He laid you down on the bed like you’d always belonged there. Your legs slightly parted, skirt ridden up so far he caught a glimpse of lace. One breath more, and he’d see the thing that had haunted his nights for weeks.

He hated you. You were supposed to be just Jenù’s babysitter not a walking temptation calling his name every damn day. He cursed softly, his voice rough and low. He wanted to see you like that every day—naked, moaning his name, tied to his bed, tears of pleasure in your eyes.

“So that’s how you like to be...half-naked in public like no one can see you. Like you don’t know you’re already mine…” he whispered, voice gravelly. He turned around, grabbed one of his oversized vintage band shirts, and dressed you with slow, precise movements, almost reverent. His fingers brushed your too-warm skin, too alive for someone like him. He lifted you gently and slid off your top and that ridiculous excuse of a skirt. He tried not to look because deep down he was still a gentleman but his jaw was tight.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Not enough. Not when you were nearly naked in his bed. He pulled the shirt over your head and laid you back. It drowned you and yet, it suited you more than that skimpy outfit he’d hated the second he saw it.

He stepped into Jenù’s room. She was asleep, cuddling the teddy bear you’d gifted her, her breathing calm. He knelt beside her, fixed a strand of hair and kissed her forehead softly. Guilt hit him hard. Because you weren’t just a crush, a temptation. You were dangerous for him, for Jenù, and for the life he’d spent years carefully building. He returned to his room. You were still there. In his bed. In his shirt. In his life. Legs half-covered, neck exposed—that damned neck he wanted to bury his face in, kiss, bite, mark. He wanted to sink his fangs into your skin and feel you scream from pleasure, from need. Taste you. You’d haunted his every thought since the day he first saw you, at Sunghoon’s birthday party.

“You’re ruining me…” he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed, exhausted. Then he climbed in beside you, turning his back so he wouldn’t touch you because if he did, he wouldn’t stop. Just as he was about to turn off the light, you whispered his name softly, like a plea from a dream. “Jay…” He closed his eyes tightly, turned, gently brushed a strand of hair from your face with trembling fingers, then turned off the light and stayed there, facing you, watching you sleep. Desiring you. Hating himself. Knowing deep down that tomorrow, he couldn’t pretend anymore.

Your head throbbed, not painfully, but with that thick, fuzzy sensation that made you curse the loud music and the neon drinks from the night before. Your eyes were still closed, skin flushed, but there was something against you—solid, muscular, slightly cool… but too alive. Holding you tight.

Oh no. Jay.

As pieces of the night fell back into place like dirty puzzle pieces stained with adrenaline and shame, you remembered it all: - how he looked at you when he found you - how he growled your name carrying you away and most of all, how you yelled he wasn’t your father, with shaking knees and burning cheeks while his eyes looked starved.

You felt nauseous not from the alcohol, but from the humiliation. He would fire you. He’d scream. He’d hate you. You slid your arm off his torso and buried your face in your hands, pouting. “Run, Y/n, before he wakes up. Just go. Get out before he opens his eyes and destroys you.” Quietly, you began to slip from the sheets. One arm held you tightly, his bare bicep wrapped around your waist like silk and fire. His face… was relaxed.eyes closed, lashes long, lips slightly parted in an unconscious pout. “If he weren’t a CEO with blood-stained hands and centuries of pain, he could be a model,” you thought, biting your lip at how unfairly beautiful he looked even asleep. Carefully, you freed yourself. His arm fell away, and you exhaled like a secret agent dodging a trap, you placed one foot on the ground no sound a second of peace.

Maybe…you made it but then.... “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low, raspy from the night, laced with dangerous promises. You shut your eyes and whispered, “Shit.”

Hand to your forehead, you turned to face him. Jay was awake, dark eyes locked on you like blades. His hair was messy, yet he looked as perfect as ever. He lifted slightly from the mattress. “I… I was just…” You didn’t finish. His cold, firm hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back down onto the mattress. He hovered over you, one knee on the bed, eyes burning into you from above. Your gaze dropped, cheeks blazing from the heat of his not-quite-human warmth. “Sorry,” you whispered. He laughed quietly—low, poisonous.

“You're sorry?” he hissed. “Sweetheart, you can shove that where the sun doesn’t shine. Maybe it’ll help you think clearer next time.” His hands clutched your wrists tighter. You laughed nervously, trying to deflect, “Didn’t think you’d be into dirty talk at eight in the morning. Figured your priorities were more… milk temp for your kid or which headband matches the bows today.” “I don’t like girls who lie. Especially not to me, or my daughter.” His hand gripped your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. His touch was gentle, but the grip was firm, anchoring. “You didn’t just put yourself at risk. You broke the trust of a little girl who says your name every night, who looks for you in her dreams, who prefers you over everyone except me. If something happened to you, she would’ve broken. And I would’ve broken with her.” You swallowed hard, cheeks burning. But he wasn’t done. “I’m not your father but under this roof, I decide what you do. You’re my responsibility. Mine. Got it?” You rolled your eyes. “And what if I don’t want to be yours?” you challenged. “Then get out of this bed. But if you stay… accept that you’re in my world now. And sweetheart, I don’t play fair. Especially not with troublemakers like you.”

You didn’t want to leave. You pulled him closer. “God… you sound like you crawled out of a teen vampire drama,” you teased. “Half Dracula, half psycho. Maybe a little pathetic too.” He raised a brow, leaned in, eyes sharp slits. “Careful. Poorly written vampires don’t end well.” “Oh no,” you mocked, “will you make me vanish or glare at me with that immortal CEO pout? Maybe scold me for corrupting your daughter with my scandalous human morals?” Your smirk faded when he bared sharp canines. Real. Dangerous. Irresistible. You reached out, voice low. “Can I?” He didn’t move. You touched the tip of a fang. Sharp as a blade. He growled low, animalistic. “Going for a vampire of the year?” you whispered. “Got the deluxe kit or just the base model with sexy teeth and moody angst?” That did it. His eyes flared. “Little girl…” he growled. He grabbed your face and crushed his lips to yours. It wasn’t tender. It was hunger, anger, and raw need. You’d teased him from day one, and he had tried to resist, but now he couldn’t. At first, you froze. Then you melted into him. His kiss was fire and desperation. You kissed back with trembling hands tangling in his messy black hair. Your tongues danced and challenged. “Christ…” he muttered as you tugged his hair. “You’re a torment.” “I know…” you whispered.

You dared explore his mouth, brushing your tongue along a fang. He growled and gripped your waist hard. His cold hand slid against your hot skin, thumb drawing circles, making you moan. Each kiss hit like a blow, and breaths came shorter. It was a storm. “I can’t stand you…” he murmured against your lips. His hands held you like you were slipping away like he’d already lost too much. You pressed into him, feeling exactly how much you affected him. “Too bad. You’re kinda cute when you’re not being a grumpy CEO dad.” His gaze darkened. “Don’t push me.” He kissed your jaw, voice shaking you. He kissed down your neck, canines brushing skin that smelled like mango and coconut. He wanted to bite, to sink those fangs in, but instead, he kissed, licked, sucked, marking you with heat and possession. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” he whispered. “Yes. And I’m not stopping,” you rasped. He chuckled darkly. “You’re trouble, Y/n.” Your fingers found his hair, pulling. He smiled against your skin, hearing how much you wanted him. “Remember…” he murmured, breath ghosting over you, “…when you called me crying, said a vampire tried to bite you because 'you hadn’t been claimed'?” Your heart stopped, then raced. You opened your mouth, stammering, but his kisses silenced you. “Don’t you think,” he said, lips at your ear, “…if anyone had to do it… it should’ve been me?” Your body shook. You moaned, feeling his dominance, his heat, his hunger.

You lifted a leg, pressing it to his side. He growled. “You thought you could just put on that tiny skirt, down some drinks, and I’d stay home while you paraded around like temptation incarnate?” “I just… I wanted to…” “You wanted attention,” he snapped. “But mine comes with a price.” His eyes were red now. Aroused. Hungry. “I’ve wanted your blood since the first time you walked into my office.” Eyes wide, you clung to him. “Please… don’t hurt me.” His smile turned wolfish. He grabbed your chin. “If you want to be treated like a princess, you’ve got the wrong immortal. I’m not here to save you, sweetheart. I’m the one you should run from.” Then his fangs sank into your skin. Pain exploded, sharp and hot. You screamed, but his hand clamped over your mouth. His bite was more than hunger. It was possession. Desire. A fire ran through you. Your breath came in pants, trembling, moaning under his mouth. You should’ve been afraid. But it wasn’t fear. It was want. Shameful, burning want. He drank deeply, slowly, rhythmically. Your name was a whisper on your tongue. Your body collapsed against his. “J… Jay…” you whimpered. He kept drinking, precise, controlled. Then, finally, he pulled away. His lips were crimson, tongue licking your wound clean. “You are…” he breathed, “…the most dangerous thing to ever happen to me. And now that I’ve tasted you…” He cupped your face gently, reverently. “…I’m never letting you go. Not even if you beg.”

It had been a week since he kissed you since he made you feel alive and maybe even important to him. A week since his fangs had pierced your skin, since his breath had turned molten and his voice had scratched your soul. And since then… silence. Jay had gone back to being the man you met months ago cold, arrogant, irritable, and infuriatingly professional. Every morning you received a message, always the same, as if you’d just started working together and hadn’t been living under the same roof for months: “Take her to the park between 6 and 7 PM. Don’t forget the snack and avoid the hottest hours. The full moon is coming and she’s sensitive to the sun. Don’t wait up. I’ll be late. I have work to do.” And every time you read “I have work to do,” you couldn’t help but think it was just an excuse to avoid being near you.

He always shut himself in his office. At dinner, he sat at the head of the table and spoke only to his daughter, as if you were invisible and one night, when he saw you still awake at the kitchen table with your Communication and Multimedia notes spread everywhere, he didn’t say much. Just a sharp glance, a mug filled with blood he barely touched, and a biting comment: “Didn’t know coloring PowerPoint titles were considered academic now.” You’d let it slide until that night. That night, you stood up, barefoot, wearing just a pair of shorts and an old oversized sweatshirt. Not to provoke him, but because you were tired of pretending nothing happened, tired of being invisible.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Your voice came out raw, almost breaking. “Do I have the plague or something?” He tensed, eyes fixed on his mug. “I’m not avoiding anyone. I have a life to manage, a company to run, a daughter to protect. I don’t have time for adolescent drama.” You stopped a meter away from him, watching his clenched fist. “Strange. A week ago, you didn’t seem so uninterested. You kissed me, bit me, crawled under my skin and now you act like I’m nothing.” He turned sharply. “You’re a girl. You’re not ready for what’s inside me. I made a mistake giving in to a stupid impulse. The kiss, the bite both mistakes I regret.”

His words shattered something inside you. “I’m not a girl. I raise your daughter every day. I gave up parties, skipped classes, lied to people because I thought it was worth it. That you were worth it.” He laughed, short, bitter. “Right. Like that night at the party. So responsible, right? Alcohol lies, and an outfit that was more sin than fabric.” Your chest tightened. “That night I messed up. But you… you made me feel alive. You looked at me like no one ever had.” He stepped closer, face tense, the air around you shrinking. “You make me something I shouldn’t be,” he spat. “Her mother left her. I won’t let her lose me too.” Silence fell like a slap and you stared at his clenched fists, his tight jaw. Then you whispered, “You’re just a coward.” You brushed past him, tears burning not just from anger, but heartbreak. You slammed the bedroom door behind you. And Jay? He didn’t follow but the mug he held… shattered in his hand.

That afternoon, golden light poured through the living room windows. The TV was off, the silence broken only by the occasional pencil falling to the floor and the soft tapping of your fingers on the keyboard. You were deep into a complex yet fascinating visual semiotics assignment, surrounded by sticky notes, half a cold coffee, and colored pens. Your shoulders ached for a break.

Jenù sat on the rug with a little illustrated workbook from preschool, coloring sea creatures with an almost sacred focus. Every few minutes, she’d toss out questions some adorable, others just to get your attention. “Do fish know they can’t talk?” “If you lived underwater, would you be a long-haired mermaid or the kind with shells?” “Is pink allowed in the ocean? I’m using it anyway!”

You chuckled without looking up, refusing to let yourself soften because Jay didn’t want you to because he was distant, and because he had made you feel like a mistake. Jenù stood abruptly, hands on hips, and gave you her best vampire pout, flashing her baby canines.

“Are you scared now? I could suck your blood!” You smirked. “Not scared, little Dracula. I know you too well and you can’t bite with baby teeth.” She crossed her arms, ready to giggle, when the ding-dong of the front door echoed through the room. Jenù’s eyes lit up and she bolted instinctively.

“Daddy! You’re early!” she shouted but it wasn’t his voice that followed. It was female. Deep. Velvet-smooth. You turned around to see Jay, coat still on, and beside him… a woman. Tall. Beautiful. Pale skin, dark hair in a messy bun, endless legs in black pants, and a razor-sharp smile. You caught sight of her fangs. She looked like exactly the kind of woman Jay wanted in his world.

Jenù quickly let go of him and ran back to you, holding your hand as if anchoring herself. “This is Y/n! The best babysitter I’ve ever had! But not just a babysitter—she’s one of my best friends. She makes perfect braids, watches Monster High with me, and cooks way better than the mean witch-nail lady we had before!” Then she looked at her dad. “Don’t send her away. She’s better than all the others.”

Your heart skipped. Not just because of Jenù’s sweetness, but because of the cold, sharp tension that suddenly filled the room.“She’s my daughter’s babysitter,” Jay said curtly, without even looking at you. The woman laughed, lips blood-red, baring her perfect fangs.

-Oh, the babysitter? What is this, the thirtieth one? Cute...” She looked you over. Cute, for a human.- You bit your cheek to keep from snapping. The humiliation, the jealousy, the rage, you swallowed it all. Jay said nothing. He placed a hand on her back… and left it there too long. Jenù looked back and forth between the two of you, a bit confused.

“We’ll be in my office,” Jay said flatly. The woman turned to you before following, offering her hand. You shook it—and she gripped too hard. Her nails grazed your skin like claws.

-Careful not to get too attached, dear,-she whispered with a wicked smile. -Vampires… change their minds quickly.- She let go and disappeared into the study with Jay. You stood there frozen, Jenù’s little hand still clutching yours, your heart pounding. Only when the office door clicked shut did you realize what you were feeling? Jealousy. And for the first time… you wanted to drive him mad the way he was driving you.

It had been over two hours since dinner, simple tomato pasta with grilled veggies, which Jenù had arranged on the plate like tiny flowers. She giggled as she chewed, proudly explaining how well she had colored the jellyfish in her underwater workbook. Now you were in the bathroom, steam fogging the mirror. You knelt by the tub with a towel over your knees while Jenù washed her hands and brushed her "LITTLE TEETH"—her nickname for her baby vampire teeth. You smiled at her pink pajama, the one with teddy bears—too sweet for a half-vampire, but adorable.

“Mmm… I don’t like that lady,” she mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste. “The one with shiny lips and claw hands.” You glanced at her through the mirror.

“Oh no?” “No. She laughs too much and looks at me funny. Why are they taking so long to work?” You bit the inside of your cheek. From Jay’s study, you could hear nothing but the clacking of keyboard keys and... laughter. “Your dad... has a lot of work. Sometimes meetings run late.” She didn’t look convinced but theatrically spit into the sink. “Is that why we spend so much time together? You nodded. “Exactly. But I don’t mind. You and me? We’re a team.”

When you left the bathroom—Jenù in her jammies, hair damp—you saw her, standing in the living room like she owned it. Leaning casually against a shelf, laughing at something Jay said, her hand lightly brushing his arm, her smile just a bit too sharp to be real. The moment she saw Jenù, she crouched and chirped in a sing-song voice:

-Sweetheart, you look beautiful! Those little fangs—such a perfect baby vampire! Though this pajama…- she laughed softly, -...a bit too human, don’t you think? You have special blood, you know?-

Jenù gripped your hand tighter and answered firmly: “It’s my favorite. Y/n gave it to me. She also got me a teddy bear at the fair and I like sleeping with him.” Your stomach twisted. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Jenù then pulled Jay’s arm.

“Daddy. Tonight, I want you to tell me a story.” The vampire woman’s smile faltered. She shot you a sharp glance—part threat, part promise: I know what you feel. And you’re going to lose. You didn’t flinch. You greeted her coldly, and she vanished into the night with a trail of sweet, cursed perfume. Jay and Jenù disappeared into her room, and instead of leaving, you followed. You sat on the edge of the bed as he began the story.

“Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a castle as big as the sky. But she had a secret: her heart beat for two worlds—the world of humans, and the world of shadows.” Jenù snuggled against him, holding her bear.

“And was her daddy a king?” “No,” Jay said, brushing her hair. “Her daddy was a guardian. Someone who fought monsters in the dark… to keep her safe.” “Even if the monsters were inside him? Or close to him?” He paused. Then whispered, “Especially then.”

She yawned, her eyes finally closing. You gently covered her with a blanket, touched Jay’s arm, then left the room. But with each step away, a growing emptiness pressed into your chest. You have made your decision. Shoes on, bag in hand you were just about to walk out when Jay appeared in the hallway, sleeves unbuttoned, standing right in your way.

“Where are you going?” he said, watching you as you bent down to put on your shoes. You turned, determined not to cry, because you wanted to leave that house.

“To my place,” you said quietly. “At this hour?” Jay asked, slightly irritated, as he watched you stand.“I don’t mind babysitting Jenù,” you said flatly. “I’m happy to be there for her until I graduate... and even after. For her birthday, for the important moments. Forever, if she wants me to be.”

His eyes darkened, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak. “But I can’t live here. I don’t want to live in a house where vampires walk in wearing stiletto heels, red lips, and acid laughter. Where you… have fun while I help Jenù with her homework.” Jay stiffened, looking at you with a hint of anxiety at your words. “It’s not what you think.”

“No?” You lifted your chin. “Then what is it? Because I know you like me, and I know you’re holding back, but I don’t want to be one of many. I don’t want to be the babysitter who watches your daughter while you find someone in your league, someone perfect for you and for Jenù, because I…” Your voice cracked, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “I could fall in love with you… and you would break me.” Jay fell silent, then took a step toward you. “I can’t afford that. I can’t be weak with you. I can’t want that.”

You looked at him and sighed because you knew he’d never fight for this. “Then let me go,” you said as you grabbed your bag. But for once, he ignored every instinct. He didn’t listen to the vampire inside him the cold, calculating one who stopped loving the day his heart was broken, the one who wouldn’t let you in, the one who was afraid terrified of losing you and making you suffer.

He grabbed your wrist with that usually controlled strength and turned you to face him. His eyes, pitch black with faint red glimmers, flared like glowing embers. He lowered his head until his lips were just brushing yours and whispered, hoarse, hungry, sincere: “Fuck it… I can’t take it anymore. I want you in my life more than anyone else.” And he kissed you but it wasn’t like that time in his bed, after the party when you were drunk on adrenaline, music, and boldness.

No, this kiss was different. It tasted of long-repressed desire, of raw need finally unleashed, of his craving to have you, to show you how much he needed you. He bit your lower lip gently, and you moaned his name between parted lips.

“J-Jay…” He laughed softly against your mouth, that deep, maddeningly sexy laugh you’d only heard when he was with his daughter.

His hands grabbed your ass firmly, and without a word, he lifted you like it was nothing effortlessly, with the confidence of someone who’s fought a thousand battles and had supernatural strength. You clung to him like a koala, legs wrapped around his waist, fingers buried in his raven-black hair—soft and just long enough to grab.

You rubbed against him, feeling his erection pressing hard against you, and that’s when he growled low in his throat and degraded you with a whisper in your ear: “Not tonight, baby. I’m not just going to fuck you against a wall—I want to make you tremble. I want to make you feel so good you forget your name. I want you unable to walk tomorrow without thinking of me. I want to hear you moan my name and how crazy I make you.”

He kissed you, wet and hot, just beneath your ear, then moved slowly down your neck, licking the spot where the mark from his fangs still lingered. Your voice broke, and you stammered something you’d never said out loud: “I-I can’t resist you anymore, Jay…”

He paused and looked you in the eye, voice low: “I know. I can’t resist you either. Since day one, you’ve been driving me insane. Ever since I had you in my bed, every morning I wake up hard as hell, and I have to jerk off in the shower thinking about you on your knees all mine. But I want you to know something: I’m not just some asshole. Not with you. I want to take care of you, for once… I want to live without fear.”

He kicked open the door to his room and closed it behind him. It was dark, deep, dominated by a large black canopy bed with dark silk sheets but amid all that darkness… you were the light. He laid you down gently like you were precious, and his gaze traced every inch of your body. He brushed his fingers slowly over your hips and whispered:

“So beautiful… so bold… and you still don’t know you were born to be mine.” He unzipped your hoodie with one swift pull, stripping it off and leaving your breasts bare, your breath shallow, still in your sweatpants. He bit his lip and said, “Christ, you’re perfect.”

But you didn’t just lay there. With trembling fingers, you unbuttoned his shirt. His skin was golden, sculpted, tight muscles flexing under your touch everything you’d dreamed of feeling since that kiss. You dragged your nails down his abs, tracing every ridge, and he shuddered under your touch, eyes half-lidded. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Wanna play, little human? Tonight I’ll show you what it’s like to be under me… to be loved by me. And you’ll beg me never to stop.” His kisses trailed slowly down your neck, hot and wet, each bite leaving small marks—branding you with his possessiveness. He sucked your skin until it turned red, whispering against your flesh:

“Tomorrow, I want to see you covered in my marks. So everyone—those boys at university—know you’re mine.” You shivered at the sound of those words because you knew how protective he was with Jenù but with you… there were darker shades. Hungry. Possessive. His red-black eyes lingered on your chest, and the way he looked at you made you feel completely naked—even though you weren’t. One of his hands grabbed your breast, squeezing it firmly, making your back arch.

“S-sensitive…” you murmured, your voice breaking from pleasure. “Perfect,” he growled softly. “I love it when you’re sensitive.” Then, without warning, he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, his tongue tracing wet circles around it, his fangs lightly grazing the taut skin. You buried your fingers in his hair, holding back a desperate moan. “Look at how you react to me…” he whispered against your skin, slowly, cruelly licking your other breast. “I bet these breasts would be perfect, full of my milk, swollen with my seed and my future children,” he growled, a thin strand of spit soothing his little bites. You stared at him, eyes wide. A shiver ran down your spine at the way he spoke… as if he was already living the future he imagined with you. It scared you but excited you more than you wanted to admit. “J-Jay… don’t say that…” you moaned as you felt his hand tighten around your breast. “Why not?” he hissed against your belly, moving lower. “Sooner or later it will happen. You’ll be full of me—inside, outside, everywhere.” He kissed your lower belly while touching the piercing on your navel that drove him crazy, then looked into your eyes. “Lift your hips.”

You obeyed, and your sweatpants and panties slipped off in one smooth, quick motion, leaving you completely exposed before him, your thighs trembling, your breath caught. He looked at you and cursed under his breath, dark and rough: “Fuck… you’re perfect.” Instinctively, from shame and modesty—you hadn’t been naked in front of anyone for a long time and you were afraid you wouldn’t live up to his expectations—you tried to close your legs, but he slid between them, grabbing you firmly. “Don’t you dare hide from me,” he growled. “Not when you have such a beautiful pussy. Shiny, swollen… wet for me. Do you see how much you want me?” He started kissing you there, between your legs, with that disarming slowness that hurt. His lips followed a cruel rhythm: soft circles, small figure eights, his tongue grazing your clitoris with surgical precision. Your body tensed, and your hands searched for something to hold onto. All you found was his hair. “J-Jay…” you moaned, voice breaking. He chuckled low, predatory, as if he knew exactly how hard you were fighting not to beg him. “What did you say?” he whispered against you before giving another slow lick along your lips. “I didn’t hear you well.” Then one of his fangs brushed your clitoris, and a shiver ran down your spine. “Fuck…” you gasped, pulling his hair.

“You’ve got a long tongue for such a sweet girl,” he growled. “And now look how slick your fucking human pussy is… Christ, I could kill for this taste, I could stay down here for hours watching you lose for me.” A finger slipped inside you slowly, wrapped in warmth and your wetness, and he cursed, forehead resting on your belly. “So tight… so ready and only for me, right?” You nodded and whispered, “I need you… please.” “Please…?” he repeated. “You’re desperate, huh? I want to hear you beg. Say my name.” he chuckled. “Jay…” you sobbed. “Please, fuck me. Do it with your fingers, with that damn mouth. Make me feel something that breaks me.” Jay was obsessed with you, and without warning, he pushed in a second finger; you felt yourself being stretched, your thighs opening wider, clutching the sheets as if they could save you from him. “Baby,” he murmured, voice broken by hunger. “You’re so full and warm… Christ, I’d get drunk just on you.” He kept moving inside you, his fingers curling against that spot that made you see stars, while his mouth devoured you mercilessly again. “You’re mine. Mine, got it? No one else gets to see you like this. No one will touch you like I do.” His fingers moved inside you like they were born for that gesture while he pumped inside you, and at the same time his tongue made perfect circles around your sensitive clitoris, then suddenly deeper, fiercer. As if his body knew exactly when to push you over the edge and when to cradle you in torment. “I-I’m coming, Jay…” you stammered, voice broken, and he smiled with that dark, indecent grin. “Good. Come. Show me how beautiful you are when you break for me.”

He didn’t give you time, and his lips returned to your pussy as if it were his favorite meal. There was no hunger for blood in his eyes anymore, only desire, only thirst for you… without warning, he pinched your clitoris with his fang and you screamed. He covered your mouth with his hand and growled into your ear, “Want to wake Jenù?” he growled softly. “Want her to hear her babysitter getting fucked with her employer’s fingers?” Tears streamed down your face—from pleasure, from shame, and pure excitement. “I’m sorry…” you whispered against his hand, unable to control your trembling, and with your other hand, you tangled it in his dark hair, pulling him even deeper between your legs. Jay groaned but didn’t stop; his fingers hammered inside you, curved, calculated, and his tongue sucked with the precision of an expert demon. Then, shivering, you came against his mouth and his fingers, and he didn’t stop. He took everything from you, drinking your essence as if it were sacred, and when he pulled away, his lips glistened. The same fingers that had destroyed you, he brought to his mouth and slowly sucked them, moaning. “Your taste… fucking perfect. Human but with something of mine inside you now. Can you feel it? You’re mine. You always were.” And he kissed you. A kiss full of your own flavor, and you, still trembling, still lost, gave it back to him. “Stay with me,” Jay murmured against your lips. “I don’t want to wake up one day without your scent on these sheets.” You couldn’t even answer. Your body collapsed against his, exhausted, warm, alive, and you fell asleep tight against his chest. But Jay… Jay didn’t sleep. He watched you in the dark while your breathing slowed, and every now and then his hand moved, caressing your side, then traveling up your belly, kissing your shoulder, your neck, the hollow behind your knee—and you… even in sleep, moaned softly. He was obsessed, thinking only about how easy it was to push you to the limit, how your body responded only to him, and he wanted to wake you again with his mouth between your thighs, wanted to hear your voice break again, wanted to bite you, make you his in the most absolute way. She’s mine. Even when she sleeps, even when she doesn’t know it, and for the first time in centuries… Jay Park felt alive.

It had been a few weeks since that night when he made you realize he cared about you and wanted you with him, and with all his might, he was pushing away the idea that he could love someone other than just his daughter. Things had changed—or maybe they had simply transformed.

He was no longer gruff, cold, or distant with you; on the contrary, he was spending much more time with you and Jenù. Every opportunity seemed good to involve you, even in moments you honestly never imagined could involve a 300-year-old aristocratic vampire.

Like… going to the movies. Yes, you heard that right the movies, not the private theater in his house but the one shared between humans and vampires in downtown Seoul. You, Jay, and Jenù sitting almost in the back row watching the new Disney movie Lilo & Stitch!

Jenù was clutching her favorite stuffed animal, you were holding her hand, and Jay… Jay was on the left, with a huge popcorn bucket on his lap. Halfway through the movie, when an emotional scene made Jenù’s eyes and yours glow, Jay leaned toward you.

“So humans cry even for an animated doll?” he whispered with a cocky smile, and you threw a popcorn straight at his face. Jenù laughed like crazy, and that’s when the battle started: flying popcorn, stifled giggles, sneaky hands trying to grab the popcorn bucket before the other a silent but beautiful disaster. Jay was laughing, and at that moment, you thought: maybe this is love, or maybe it’s a wonderful trap, because little by little, you were falling in love with that 27-year-old man who, in his vampire form, was 300 years old…

That afternoon at university, Sunghoon called to say he would pick up Jenù from kindergarten and take her to dance. You replied with a simple “ok,” already mentally preparing to take the crowded subway, but then you immediately saw a message from Jay saying: “I’ll come get you.”

You sighed because surely he and Sunghoon had made plans, and you thought: God, no.

Being seen outside the university in a shiny black Aston Martin at four in the afternoon? It was mortifying. Plus, you were wearing your dad’s hoodie, and battle-worn faded jeans, and you weren’t wearing any makeup or looking presentable for someone like him… yet, there he was. Parked in front of the entrance, headlights on, the door already open as per his gentleman status, and you got in.

That unmistakable scent aged whiskey, leather, something ancient and warm that smelled like him wafted into your nostrils, and you felt better seeing him dressed not for work either. He wore slightly dressy pants but a Ralph Lauren sweater that hugged his muscular chest, and his hair was so messy you smiled because he must have run his hands through it countless times.

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately, glancing at you sideways.“Just a headache, a bit tired the graduation is coming, and I can’t wait to finish to figure out which master’s to do.” Jay didn’t answer right away. He stretched his arm toward the back seat and handed you a warm carton. Hot chocolate. When you opened it, you saw it was covered with marshmallows, and you looked at him.

“How do you know that’s my favorite?” He raised an eyebrow, sly, and smiled. “I watch you carefully.” “Stalker,” you whispered as you started to drink, and he smiled. Then you shivered an unexpected chill ran down your spine. “Can you turn up the temperature?” you asked, your hands warming thanks to the hot chocolate’s heat. “It’s already 23 degrees.” Without a word, he moved closer and pressed his cold forehead against yours. “Fuck… you’re burning up.”You put your hand to your forehead—he was right, you were burning.“You have a fever.” His tone was authoritative and cold, but protective. Almost… tender. “You need to rest.” “Yes, Dad,” you teased, and he looked at you, his red eyes slightly narrowed, letting you drink in peace. But beneath that calm… he was already reckoning with how much he was getting attached to you a small human, too stubborn, too fragile, and too… his.

Jay never thought he’d have to take care of two girls in his life—and yet, in the middle of the night, he found himself standing next to the bed, watching over two humans. Well… one human and one small half-blood. One too stubborn for her good, with a fever and a stuffy nose. Jenù was asleep, her legs sprawled over his chest, breathing in little puffs.

You, on the other hand, were a whole different problem. For three days, your fever had hovered between 38.5 and 38.5, your nose red enough to melt any heart… and your hair so messy it looked more like a declaration of war than a symptom. Jay was immovable: rest, broth, medicine, more rest.

But you? You wanted the whole world, even with a fever and dark circles under your eyes. That night, you got up quietly, thinking he was in his study—but no. Jay was there, leaning against the kitchen door with his arms crossed. Crimson eyes, a sharp gaze, but he said nothing for a long second.

He looked at you: his sweatshirt nearly reached your knees, your pajama pants hung a bit off one hip, and your face pale, tired… and beautiful. That red nose, flushed cheeks, those wild strands of hair something in him snapped. A sharp, sweet pang.

Damn, she’s cute like this. Especially like this. Vulnerable, real, fully his, in his home. He walked toward you slowly, his voice stern: “Back to bed.”

“No.” Your voice came out hoarse, weak and then, suddenly, you hugged him. mA simple gesture. Natural.

But for Jay, it was like lightning. You weren’t a physical person. You never hugged him like that without a reason. Maybe because you didn’t trust him yet—not completely. But he wanted to become the person you could trust.

And him? He held you tight, protective in a way that surprised even him. A kind of touch he usually reserved only for his daughter. Don’t let me get used to this, little human… because I might never want to let it go.

“Sweetheart, you need rest…” he whispered into your ear, voice low and warm, unusually gentle. “I know,” you murmured, your forehead against his chest. “But I’m hungry… for something good. And no, I don’t want any more plain noodles or chicken soup.” You looked up at him with those eyes the same eyes Jenù used when she wanted to stay up late or ask for something and he recognized the look instantly.

He shook his head. “No.” You hugged him tighter, inhaling that scent of his that always made you feel at home, and you said: “Please… ramen. Slightly spicy, the one with the soft-boiled egg inside…”“You’ve got a fever,” he replied in his usual stern tone, and you pouted, knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

“Then I’ll call Heeseung,” you whispered with a faint smile. “The ramen king.” You tried to pull away to grab your phone, but Jay growled softly. His red eyes flared. That bastard’s not making you a damn thing. Not in my house.

Without another word, he took your hand warm, trembling, so human and dragged you into the kitchen. He sat you down on the counter and began preparing the ramen. You watched him move in silence, enchanted by the way he focused just to feed you. The way he opened the spice packets, cracked the eggs, and added the broth with precise gestures. As he stirred the pot, Jay thought about how much of a child you seemed to him. Fragile, human, noisy—and there he was, making ramen at three in the morning just because you gave him that sick puppy look.

I’ve gone insane.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked without turning around. He could feel your gaze on him.

“Like what?” you asked, a little sleepy. “Like I’m a miracle.” You smiled faintly.

“Maybe you are.” Jay froze for a second, the ladle hanging in the air. His (dead) heart skipped something dangerously close to a beat.

It’s just the fever talking, just a random moment. But then you turned away, coughing softly, and he placed one hand on your back, the other on your forehead.

“You still have a fever.” “I know,” you murmured with a shiver. “Eat. Then bed,” he said in that commanding tone of his. You whispered, “Only if you come too.” There was a pause—silence heavy enough to make your chest tighten in fear he might laugh at you. But Jay nodded slowly. He didn’t say a word but inside…

He was already surrendering. To your voice, to your fragility, to that sweetness he never asked for but that was slowly invading his life.

And maybe… just maybe…He was falling in love with you.

The next day, Jenù only had a mild cold. Jay checked her temperature and, with a satisfied look, confirmed the fever was gone. He sent her off to spend time with Sunghoon and your best friend "just to be safe," he said… though you suspected he just wanted a few hours alone with you.

He took your temperature right after. “37.5°. It’s going down.” “Oh, Doctor Jay, what wonderful news! Tell me, did you study medicine or is this all part of your panicked dad instincts?” Jay shot you a sharp look, but the corners of his lips curved into a half-smile.

“In my vampire ID, I’m 300 years old, sweetheart. I’ve seen plenty of sick people.” You rolled your eyes and leaned back against the couch.“There he is again — the ancient immortal. You know, I keep forgetting I’m dating someone who could’ve voted during the age of absolute monarchies.” “Dating?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. You two weren’t just “dating” like some teenagers fumbling through a first crush.

“Okay, fine living together, making out, exploring each other, co-parenting your daughter pick your term,” you said with a smirk as you stretched. “Anyway, I need a shower. I look like a gremlin and I hate tangled hair.” Jay stiffened immediately. “I don’t want you alone in the bathroom.” You looked at him, shrugging. “You can stay by the door. I don’t plan on drowning in shower gel.” He stepped closer, his face serious. “What if you faint? Or worse hit your head?”

You gave him a wry look. “If this is your way of asking to join me, just say so.” Jay’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “She’s back...the girl from our first months together. The one who teased me every five minutes.” You smiled and wrapped your arms around him.

“She never left. You just got used to my brilliant personality.” He sighed and raised his hands. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll prepare the main bathroom for you.”

When he finally called you in, the scene looked like something out of a movie: The large black marble tub steamed with hot water, dotted with violet sea salt pearls. The air smelled of vanilla and lavender, and candles flickered around the edges.

You stood at the doorway, lips slightly parted. As a kid, you had always dreamed of a bathtub like that, but your family home never had one — and your student apartment didn’t even come close.“You… did all this for me?” you whispered. “No. It was for me. But since you’re always complaining, I’ll let you use it,” he replied sarcastically, turning to leave. “Relax. Just don’t get up too fast.”

But you reached out and caught his wrist. “Stay,” you said softly, a little shyly. Jay turned slowly to face you, his gaze drifting down over your body, hidden beneath one of his oversized hoodies.

“I’m not pretty right now, I know,” you murmured, face warm. “All sweaty, still a little feverish…” You began pulling down your pajama pants slowly, left in nothing but your underwear. Then you peeled off the hoodie no bra underneath and Jay let out a quiet, almost frustrated breath as his eyes scanned your body. He reached out and cupped one of your breasts gently, brushing your nipple with his thumb. You gasped softly, tilting your head back at the contrast between your warm skin and his cool hands.

“You’re a little overdressed,” you whispered. He didn’t say anything, just took off his shirt revealing his golden skin and sharp V-line then slid off his sweatpants, staying in just his boxers. You were biting your lower lip without realizing it, and he noticed.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and you nodded before giggling shyly. “Can you turn around while I get in? Even vampires should know how to respect privacy.” Jay scoffed. “Sweetheart, I’ve seen your pussy from every angle.” “Jay!” you scolded, slapping his chest. He laughed and turned his back.

You slipped into the tub the water was just the right kind of hot. The steam kissed your skin and made you close your eyes for a second, letting yourself melt into it. Jay turned back around, watching you as you relaxed in the water. Then, slowly, he took off his boxers. You shut your eyes instantly.

“I said you turn around, not me!” “You’ve been naked for a minute,” he replied, climbing in. “Might as well.”

He settled behind you, pulling you gently between his legs, your back resting against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, and he placed a soft kiss on your shoulder. The hot water enveloped you both like a velvet cocoon but Jay’s hands, cold like winter moonlight, made you shiver every time they touched your skin.

You could feel his arousal pressing against you — constant, undeniable — and a quiet moan escaped your lips. Jay smiled slightly, misinterpreting it. “Am I bothering you, sweetheart?” he whispered, continuing to lather your back with slow, careful movements… almost reverent.

"No… just a little shiver, " you lie, leaning your head against his chest as he had asked you. Its smell invaded you: wood, and smoke, mixed with the sweet note of vanilla and lavender. His hands began to descend slowly, lingering on the curves of your hips, then rising again, caressing your neck gently before lingering on the breast and you arched your body as you wanted it closer. "Perfect…" he whispered against your skin, his lips barely touching your lobe. "Too perfect for such a damn human creature." You moved, without realizing it, rubbing against him, and his body reacted with a slight quiver and a subdued laugh. "Careful, little human …" he muttered in a low tone, scratched with desire. "Do not tease what you are not ready to tame." His hand went down again, stroking your belly with slow, torturing movements, before lingering between your thighs. His kisses began to rain on you like caresses: on the neck, behind the shoulder, in the still-damp hair. «Jay…" you whispered, just turning around to look for his gaze. "You're on painkillers, love. You don't know what you're saying," he replied in a hoarse voice, but his hands hadn't stopped, and you turned a little more, running your fingers through his hair, and in the movement, you felt his cock rub against your bottom. He was hard, and hot despite his skin, and it was clear how much he was struggling with himself. You looked at him with bright eyes. "I need you." He kissed you and it was not a tender kiss, it was a hungry bite, a fire devouring the air between you and slightly pinched your lower lip, savoring a drop of your blood as if it were his condemnation. "You don't know what trouble you're getting yourself into…" he hissed at your mouth. "Then let me sink with you." Your voice trembled, but it was not fear: it was desire. He stared at you, then shook his head with that tired, sharp smile. "You are a stubborn child and too human for your good…" And yet, his fingers were already moving between your legs, tracing slow and skillful circles, his fingers were tracing slow circles against your already hot, swollen cunt, so sensitive that you almost could not hold back the moans.

"Jay… please… I want to hear you inside…" He sighed, and his breath caressed your neck like a broken promise. "you're too cheeky to be a babysitter» You bit your lip, but the answer came out to you anyway: "I know what I want and I want you.» His laughter was low, biting. "Really? And what exactly do you want, honey?" You stammered, but the words melted into a sigh as you felt the entrance of your now swollen folds teasing you: "I want to feel good. I can't take it anymore… to be repressed every time I see you. I've wanted you for months…and you, you with your daughter are sweet, perfect… and you're a bad bastard with me. Looks like you live with a pole up your ass." His laugh this time was true but also as sharp as a barely sharp canine. "You know I could bite you just for what you just said?" He pinched your hips, then with cruel slowness slid a finger into you and your body reacted as if it had always expected it: you groaned, your head back resting on his shoulder, and you groaned. "Continuous… please…" "Fucking human," he hissed at your skin, as his teeth grazed the curve of your shoulder. "So greedy for my finger? What are you gonna do when I fucking dig you in? When will I plant my teeth in your neck and make you mine for real?" You barely moved, tilting your hips, rubbing over his still-captive boner between the two of you and he growled softly.

"Stay still…" order. "If you still move I'll take you like that. Without lubricants, without sweetness and I swear you will scream my name until everyone in the palace hears you." "Jay…" you whined, moving against his fingers. He looked at you with a mixture of exasperation and burning desire. "You behave worse than a child in heat. I should punish you." But he didn't, instead, he slid a second finger into you, bending it with mastery as his thrusts became deeper, more insistent and your body writhed against his, looking for more friction, more pressure, more of everything. "You… yes so… You're great…", you praised him between moans, without shame, as you felt how his cock under you became harder and harder, swollen, impatient. You felt it, you wanted it, and he was losing his temper, too.

"Be careful…" he growled softly," I'm going to rip your soul out if you keep moving like this." You wrapped your arms around His neck, your head resting on his shoulder, and you babbled against his skin: "I'm… I'm coming…" He smiled, damn pleased. "You're only coming with two fingers inside and I haven't even touched your clit… You're so sensitive, so damn mine." You nodded, unable to speak, until your body stretched all together and the orgasm ran through you like an electric shock, making you scream at his chest as you felt your cunt twitch, hot, wet, sticky, even hungrier than him against his fingers. "Good girl…" he muttered, slowly removing his fingers from inside you, looking at them, shiny and wet, but this time he did not bring them to his mouth. Instead, he picked up some of your same mood and slid it down, between your buttocks and the touch made your back arch. It was the first time anyone touched you in that area and he knew it. "If you want it, honey…", he said in a rougher voice,"…I need to make sure it doesn't hurt. You are small, narrow, and too human." He continued to pass his finger carefully through the folds, pressing only gently, preparing you, his tone became lower, more intimate. "I don't want to break you. I want you to feel it, everything, but slow, only if you're ready." You nodded slowly, your heart in your throat and your body on fire, trembling as if you were about to collapse because you wanted to feel it inside you for months now.

"I … I've never done it like this…" you stuttered with a sweaty forehead, fingers clasped against his broad shoulders as if only he could still hold you in balance and he looked at you with his eyes too dark to belong in this world. He kissed you in the hair and put you even closer to him to feel how much he wanted you. "Then I'll do it." murmur. "And it will be nice but if you tell me to stop, I will always stop, remember that." His hard, taut cock slid between your buttocks with sadistic patience and you felt it throb against you, like a living creature, as if choosing you and every slow rub was a bite of pleasure and torture. He had been lubricating you for minutes, with expert, careful fingers, and now the tip was already pressing where no one had ever been. Then he lowered his head and he kissed your neck alternating light hickeys and light bites with his fangs and you heard him growling softly against your skin, as if hungry for everything you were. "I can't take it anymore…" you gasped, your voice broken, damp. "I want you too much…" He giggled against your ear, a low, poisonous laugh of desire. "I knew that under that too-long tongue was hiding a little human slut who wanted to be filled all over." He grabbed you by the hips with force, clutching the flesh as if he wanted to leave a mark on us.

"Relax … sit on top of me. So, let me lead you into hell."Your knees trembled as you lifted, feeling your body straining in the void. "Raise that beautiful little ass for me. That's right." You whined as his hands held you still between your hips. "Are you ready, baby?" he said while teasing the skin of your body. "Yes … yes, I am…" you muttered, and so you felt his toe push slowly, come in, spread It burned but it was a fire you wanted, you had been looking for for months and you both groaned. "Fuck…" you gasped. "It's so big… so big… it hurts but…" you said as you felt it making space inside you deeper and deeper and the only friction that gave you relief was the now slightly lukewarm water. "And you are…" he growled in a broken voice, his breath trembling. "So tight, so hot, Christ, your body is made to be fucked by me. Feel how well you take me…" Tears rose to your eyes from pleasure, and when you were halfway through his entrance, you moaned almost in a sob: "It's too much … too much…" He laughed, with a sound that smelled of sin but also of the desire to break you. "Too much? And you didn't even make it to the better half…" With your hands sunk to the edge of the tub, you lifted yourself a little more, your body tense, heaving, while the cock remained inside you, ravenous and insatiable.

Then you began to descend again, slowly, deeper, and his groan was violent, brutal, like an animal held too long. "Good … So … But me…" His voice cracked, broken, as the grip on your hips became tighter, more urgent. "I can't take it anymore. I want to sink everything in, I want to be tight in you to the last drop." "Jay …" you whined and he giggled seeing you against the mirror trying to get used to his size creeping more and more inside you. He lifted you slightly, holding you by the hips with his hands wide and secure, then let you fall back on his cock in a single, deep lunge and you screamed. Not because of pain, but because of the intensity because it was everywhere, it took all of you, it filled every corner of your body. "Fuck… you're so hot. So fucking tight…» You just turned around, your hair touching his bare chest, and you stammered disjointed words, lost in pleasure: "I hear you… too much inside… not… I can't… you drive me crazy, Jay…" He growled and kissed your bare back. "You're fine, you're perfect when you tremble and look how good you are at taking everything from me…"

His hands pushed you up, then down again and he made you ride him slowly, then forcefully, holding your hips as you drove the pace in the bathroom you could hear only the flow of hot water and the sound of your skin slapping against his, your moans, his roaring breaths… everything blended into a perfect symphony. His cock penetrated you deep, each lunge sent liquid shocks between your legs and when you began to lose balance, his hands went to support you from below, pressing with their thumbs on the curves of your ass. "I want to see you completely lost. I want you to remember this feeling every time you look at me." You felt it throbbing inside you, already at the limit and then it changed angle, pushing the pelvis slightly higher and god hit you right there. "It's too much…." you cried and screamed at how well he was taking you. "No," he growled. "You take it. Because you're my good girl, remember?" He was fucking you from underneath now, pushing in with force and precision, while you rode his body as if you were falling apart and finding your perfect shape in his hands. «Jay… I'm coming…" You groaned, your voice broken, confused between crying and ecstasy. "Come, then," he whispered against your back. "Show me how you break for me."

Your orgasm swept over you like a wave, as he clutched you, your thighs trembled as you took him still inside you, sitting on his cock, your back arched and your hair stuck to sweaty skin. His hands held you steady, wide, icy, sunk into your hips as he drew small circles around your hips. "Look how you take me…" he whispered in a hoarse voice, his forehead resting on your back. "You're so tight, so fucking hot… Christ, you're taking me so well" Every time you let go of him, you felt him rise deep, hard, thick, pulsating. "It's too much … you're too in… I can't…" But your body told another story because you wanted to feel it all inside you. "Yes, you succeed because you are mine. Made to be fucked by me so forever." His hands moved under your breast, grabbing it, squeezing it with gentle brutality as he lifted you, then made you fall back on him, stronger, deeper. The noise of your skins coming together was obscene and whispered dirty praises in your ear. “Look how good you are … my insatiable little human … so hungry for me." You cried, laughed, and groaned, all together. "god … please…don't come inside…" He paused for only a second and the silence was heavier than desire.

"Are you taking the pill?" You did no with your head, breathing hard but his eyes shone. "Then let me fill you up." He grabbed your hair, pulling it slowly to make you turn towards him. "I want you fertilized, I want to see you swollen with my seed and I want to brand you inside, not just outside."

A thrill passed through you because you had never felt so good in your life. "Tell me you want it." "Yes … yes, I want you to fill me… I want your seed inside me." The growl he made was almost animalistic. "Good girl." and then his cock impaled you again, sinking with strength and pure desire. He took you by the throat, with the right squeeze, without really tightening, just to dominate you, and pushed himself deeper, dirtier, as his hips lifted and lowered you as if you were an extension of him. He was fucking you like a god and you were his goddess, his chest was against your back. His mouth was on your neck and bit you slightly not to hurt you or mark you and then came. You felt Him explode inside you, hot, flooding and you felt his release slip dent of you and his hands trembled around your waist as he panted your name. His seed dripped slowly between your thighs, still sitting on him, and you just turned, your cheek against his chest, your heart exploding in your chest.

"Jay" He kissed you on the forehead and in a low voice you said, "I love you." You said it slowly as if you were afraid of his reaction but he squeezed you harder and slid you slightly from him and then straddled you and hugged you and said, "I love you too and I can't pretend otherwise anymore."

You giggled and when you looked up he looked up. "Damn…" he whispered, he took you in his arms again, his face in your hair. "I seriously fell in love with a little girl who acts as a babysitter to my daughter and by the way a human who teases me from the first day she entered through that door!"

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