pairing- vampire!kwon jiyong x f!reader
contents- smut, unprotected & protected piv, masturbation, oral (f recieving), blood, biting, death, slight description of SA, very angsty at times, doesn't rly follow traditional vampire lore too much but who cares
synopsis- You'd always been told growing up that vampires were something to be feared. That they were dangerous. Inhumane. Monsters, even. But upon meeting Jiyong, that ideation starts to fade when you see him for what he really is; a boy who was forced to grow up way too quickly.
a/n- omg. i'm so excited for this one. i really hope you guys enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing this. everyone thank @pmone-dot for keeping me motivated and forcing me to finish it. enjoy! love u all! and happy csh1 week to everyone who celebrates !!!
Golden light spills in through your window, peeking between the lazily drawn curtains and casting a yellowy glimmer across your bedroom. Your eyes flutter open as your alarm blares, your hand shooting out to smack your phone aimlessly until it shuts off.
You stretch momentarily, before rolling out of bed with an exaggerated groan. You fall into the seat before your vanity and stare at yourself for a moment. You brush your hair a little too aggressively, quickly doing two messy braids that lay loose down your shoulders. You put on some low music as you get ready, humming along as you brush highlighter on your cheek.
Time slips away a little quicker than you intended, and suddenly it’s 8:00 AM, and you’re grabbing your keys and bag and running out the door. When you arrive at work, you head straight for your desk, opening your laptop and continuing on the draft you began the day before.
You love your job. You’d always been good with design, so you’ve always known that you wanted to do that for a living. And this job is exactly what you wanted. You work as an advertisement designer, creating commercials and ad campaigns for huge companies all across Korea. It may not seem like much to others, being a 9-5 office job in the city. But to you, it’s perfect. All you’ve ever wanted. Your coworker knocking on your desk distracts you, and you look up at her with a smile.
“Mr. Kim wants to see you. He seemed excited.” She says, shrugging.
You get a little nervous, knowing your boss can be a little assertive. But you nod, getting up and walking toward his office. You knock on his open door to catch his attention. Your boss looks up at you, then motions for you to come in. You offer a small bow before sitting at the chair before his desk.
“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?” He asks, reaching down to a drawer in his desk and pulling out a file.
“I’m good, thank you. I was told you wanted to see me?” You smile, and he nods.
“Yes. I have a proposition for you.” He slides the file across his desk to you.
You hesitate, but take it, slowly opening it in your lap. “What’s this?”
“Read it.” He says, leaning back in his chair.
You scan the file, and your heart skips when you read the first page. A new campaign contract. With a company you’d never worked with before. Seolleda. One of the most well-known designer brands in Korea. But that isn’t why you froze. You read a little further, and a couple familiar names appear.
Co-owners: Kwon Jiyong & Choi Seunghyun.
Everyone in Seoul knows those names. The two most successful vampires in Korea. Vampires.
Your boss sees your concern, and sighs. “I know working with… those people can be a little scary. But you’re my best designer. And we could really use this business.”
You read over the file again, but none of the other words really register. You take a moment. You’d always been taught to stay away from vampires. You grew up being told that they’re dangerous. Evil. Monsters. But Seolleda is one of the biggest brands in Korea. It would be an amazing opportunity to take your career further.
You sigh, before placing the folder back on the desk. “I’ll do it.”
Your boss smiles. “Ah, perfect. You’ll do great. You start tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” You ask, heartbeat picking up a little.
“Yes. I’ll have you go to the headquarters tomorrow morning and meet with Mr. Kwon.” He says, and you furrow a brow.
“Yes, I believe Mr. Choi is on a business retreat in America. It’ll just be Mr. Kwon. But you’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“You’ll be fine, Ji. It’s only a month.” Seunghyun leans back in his chair, feet kicked up on his desk.
Jiyong sighs, laying down on the couch in Seunghyun’s office. “I hate when I have to deal with people on my own. They all like you better than they like me.”
“Because I’m not a raging asshole to everyone who dares to look in my direction.” He lets out a low laugh as he scrolls on his phone.
“Fuck off.” Jiyong chucks a decorative pillow at Seunghyun, who catches it and sends it right back.
“You’ve overlooked hundreds of ad campaigns without me. This is no different.” Seunghyun says, and Jiyong lets out a groan.
“It is different, hyung. They’re sending someone here to work with me.”
“You will do fine. Just… be nice. Or try to.” Seunghyun stands, ruffling Jiyong’s hair and grabbing his things before exiting his office. He pauses at the door, turning back to his friend with a smile. “You can always call if you need anything.”
“Get going, asshole. You’re gonna miss your flight.” Jiyong motions for him to leave, and Seunghyun smiles, before walking out.
Jiyong stays in Seunghyun’s office for a little longer than normal. He scrolls through his phone aimlessly, not really paying attention to anything on his feed. It’s almost 9PM when he finally decides to go home. His employees bow and mutter kind greetings as he walks down the hallway, but he doesn’t respond. He keeps his eyes pointed ahead, hands shoved into his pockets, adjusting his tie uncomfortably in the elevator.
Jiyong’s drive home is a silent one. He inches over the speed limit, wanting nothing more than to light a cigarette on his balcony and watch the city lights alone. When he finally arrives home, he does just that. The cigarette hangs loose on his lips, smoke curling above his head. But the silence doesn’t last long.
Jiyong doesn’t hesitate when he sees his sister’s contact. He answers the phone, putting it on speaker and placing the device on his thigh.
“Hey, how are you?” Dami asks, and Jiyong sighs.
“Fine. Seunghyun left today.” Jiyong takes the cigarette between his fingers, flicking ash on the ground.
“It’ll go by fast, Ji. I know how much you hate when he’s not there, but you’ll get through it. You always do.”
There’s a moment of silence, Dami sighing on the other end. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“Yes, Dami. Everything’s fine.” Jiyong takes another long drag from his cigarette.
“You’re a bad liar. But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
Jiyong pauses. Then, “when are you coming to Seoul again?”
“In a few weeks probably. I’m a little busy right now, or I’d come see you sooner.” Dami says, and Jiyong lets his head fall against the back of his chair.
Dami exhales slowly. “I know, Ji. I hate being this far from you guys too. But it’s just super busy at work right now.”
“I know. It’s okay.” Jiyong lies.
“You’ve got that new project, right? Focus on that, okay?” She offers, but it doesn’t register to Jiyong.
“I hate doing this shit by myself.” Jiyong flicks the cigarette on the ground and steps on it.
“I know. But you always find a way, yeah? You can call me or Seunghyun any time, you know that.”
“I know.” A pause, then, “thank you, Dami.”
“Always. You should get some sleep. I just wanted to check in.” She says. Jiyong nods, though she can’t see him.
“Goodnight, Ji. I love you.” Dami says, and Jiyong takes his phone in his hand.
“I love you too.” Jiyong says, before the line goes dead.
The next day, you stop outside of the Seolleda headquarters and admire the building for a moment, before stepping inside. The young woman at the reception desk directs you to the top floor with a kind smile. You walk with her down the hallway and she stops right before Mr. Kwon’s office, gesturing for you to knock, then walking back to the elevator.
You sigh, then knock twice, receiving a ‘come in.’ from the other side of the door. You open the door, met with him sitting at his desk reviewing papers and not looking up at you.
“Sit.” He gestures to the chair across from his desk. A slight shiver runs down your spine at his tone–deep and unbothered–but you comply.
“Very nice to meet you, Mr. Kwon. I’m Y/N. I’m very excited to be working with yo-”
“Jiyong.” He says, deadpan. “Don’t call me that. My name’s Jiyong.”
You pause, suddenly embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jiyong.”
“Let’s begin.” He sets down the paper he’d been reading, finally meeting your eyes. You shudder when he does–his dark, almost red eyes seemingly looking past the nervous smile you have plastered on your face. “I know you’re used to working with other company's marketing teams strictly, but this project is one of our biggest yet, so you’ll be working on it with me.”
You nod, trying to smile a little wider, but failing.
The rest of the day passes by slowly. You show Jiyong some of the ideas you had in mind for the campaign, and he responds to most of them with nothing more than a small nod, or a low hum. His demeanour is intimidating, sure. But not scary. Not like you’d imagined. He gave one or two compliments of your work, but other than that, he didn’t speak much. He kept to himself, checking his phone frequently and never really meeting your eyes.
5PM rolls around eventually and you find yourself packing up your things a little too quickly. You sit in your car in the Seolleda headquarters parking lot for a little too long. “This won’t be so bad.” You tell yourself, but you know it’s mostly a lie. You sigh, before starting your car and driving home.
Your apartment is a little too cold when you enter. You waste no time changing into sweatpants and the biggest hoodie in your closet and climbing into bed. You scroll through your contacts and land on your best friend, clicking her name. The phone rings for approximately two seconds before she picks up.
“Hey! I’ve been waiting to hear from you. How was your first day working with the bloodsucker?” Chaerin asks, laughing lightly. You sigh, laying back on your pillow.
“Fine, I guess. He barely speaks. I felt like I was talking to a brick wall half the time.” You let out a bitter laugh.
“Well, that’s a vampire for you. Stuck up and ancient.” She giggles, and you groan.
“This is gonna be a long week.”
“Ah, cheer up. Let’s all go out this weekend, yeah? Something to look forward to.” Chaerin offers, and you feel a little flutter of hope in your chest.
“Yes, please. I feel the life draining out of me and it’s only been one day.” You smile, pulling your hair up into a bun.
“Sounds good. I’ll tell the girls.” Chaerin pauses, before, “so, is he hot?”
“Chae!” You laugh, and she joins.
“Hey! I’ve heard some things about him. I wanna know your first hand experience.”
You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”
“Come on. He’s a little cute.” She pries.
You sigh. “Fine. He’s kind of cute. But he’s also definitely a vampire. And also, like, 200 years old.”
“He must be very wise then.” She suggests, and you groan.
“He asked me to call him Jiyong.” You say, receiving an exaggerated gasp from Chaerin.
“On a first name basis already? Wow, this is more serious than I thought.”
“It was so weird. I walked in and introduced myself and he just… cut me off. To tell me to call him Jiyong and not Mr. Kwon.” You recall the moment.
Chaerin hums, confused as well. “Weird. Vampires are weird.”
A moment of silence settles, then Chaerin yawns. “Okay, well, I’m gonna let you go to bed. Get some sleep while you still can. You know, before Jiyong gets his opportunity to suck your blood.”
“Ah, leave him alone. He’s a little weird but he isn’t an asshole. Well, not yet.” You say.
“I’m hanging up.” You say, but fail to stifle your laugh.
“Goodnight! See you Friday!” Chaerin says, hanging up before you can. You let out a soft laugh, before rolling over and shutting off your light, sleep claiming you not long after.
The rest of the week seems to pass pretty slow. Things with Jiyong stayed very professional. He never made small talk, never asked about you, and you didn’t either. He spoke a little more after the first day, but no more than absolutely necessary. He wasn’t rude, but he definitely wasn’t nice either.
Friday finally arrives, and you work with him on the project for most of the day, the rest of the time he has other business to attend to and he leaves you in his office by yourself. You aren’t proud of it, but he told you he’d be gone for about an hour for a meeting and to continue what you were working on, but instead, you decide to have a look around his office.
The first thing you notice is the framed photo on his desk facing his chair. Black and white, seemingly very old. It shows him and another man you recognize as Choi Seunghyun, arms thrown around each other in front of what looked like a very old version of the Seolleda building. They’re smiling, something you’d never seen him do. You continue looking, and something else catches your eye. His phone. He left it on the desk, face up. Of course he did.
Hesitantly, you tap on the screen. His lockscreen is a photo of him with a woman, about his age. You assume this to be his sister because of their striking resemblance, and you also knew he wasn’t married from a quick google search. She’s smiling, holding up a certificate which upon closer inspection, is a university degree.
Jiyong has his arm around her shoulders, eyes fixed on her with a proud expression on his face. The photo makes you smile a little, knowing that the stoic and intimidating man you’d spent the past few days with was capable of a facial expression that isn’t a blank stare and narrow eyes. When Jiyong returns, the two of you get back to work. But, when a moment of silence settles in, you decide to try something new.
“When did you start the company?” You ask, receiving a bit of a confused look from Jiyong. He hesitates, before sighing just slightly.
“1864. I was 30.” He says, eyes fixed on his computer again. Your eyes widen just a bit.
“Wow. That’s…” you trail off, but Jiyong doesn’t react.
“A long time ago, yeah.” He mutters, seemingly annoyed. You sense it, and turn back to your laptop, feeling a little small.
The day ends with a sigh of relief from both you and Jiyong. You collapse on your bed as soon as you get home. The silence lasts for about 30 seconds. Texts light up your phone screen, buzzing next to your head.
Chaerin: hey! we’re gonna meet at the bar for 10 i think. sound good?
You suddenly remember the plans you’d promised a few days ago.
The typing bubbles appear immediately.
Chaerin: kk can’t wait!!!!
You smile, throwing your phone on the bed next to you. As you’re getting ready, blending foundation a little too hard, you glance over at the outfit you’d laid out on your bed.
A short black dress, tight with a slit up the thigh. Simple but elegant. It’s accompanied by black heels and a black and gold clutch purse. You clip your favourite gold pendant necklace around your neck, gold teardrop earrings and rings already situated on. You slip into your dress when you finish your makeup. You stand before the mirror hanging on the back of your bedroom for a little too long. The dress is perfect, and the golden accessories glimmer in just the right lighting. You run your fingers through your freshly curled hair one more time before heading out the door.
The bar is dimly lit when you enter, and you immediately spot Chaerin, her arms thrown around Dara, her laugh projecting across the room. Minzy and Bom surround them, leaning over the booth table and sipping on drinks. You smile, knowing how badly you need a night with your friends after this past week. When Chaerin spots you, she jumps up, running over to you and wrapping her arms around you, clearly already a little tipsy.
“Y/N! Girl, we missed you!” She giggles, and you hug her back.
“I missed you guys too. I need a drink, like, now.” You and Chaerin slide into the booth.
“Oh, I bet you do.” Bom raises her eyebrows.
“Yeah, after a week with… well, a vampire.” Minzy sips her drink.
“He really isn’t that bad. Just a massive hard-ass.” You roll your eyes, stealing the drink from Chaerin’s hand and downing the rest of it.
“Hey!” She punches your arm, but her laugh gives her away.
Dara pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry about any of that shit tonight. Let’s get wasted and forget about work.”
And get wasted you did. Time seems to pass quickly, and before you know it, you’re spinning Dara around on the dance floor, Chaerin and Minzy are doing shot after shot at the bar, and Bom has found herself making out with some guy at your booth. When the song you were dancing to ends, you and Dara join the girls at the bar. Bom slips away from the booth eventually and stumbles into the seat next to you.
“Hey, hey, Y/N!” Chaerin nudges you. “You should call him!”
“Girl, what are you talking about?” You giggle.
“Your boss! You’ve been complaining about him all night. Call him right now and tell him what you think!” She points to your phone in your hand.
You shake your head. “Are you kidding? I’ll definitely be fired.”
“Or eaten.” Minzy huffs a laugh.
“Don’t be a pussy! Call him!” Chaerin doubles down, and you groan, but you’re already opening your phone. Chaerin cheers a little too loud, and the others gather around you.
“I’m gonna do it.” You scroll through your contacts until you find his name.
“This is gonna be good.” Bom leans over your shoulder.
You hesitate for just a moment before clicking the call button next to his name. The dial tone is completely drowned out by the sound of the bar, so you bring the phone to your ear. The girls are already laughing, all eyes on you. The phone rings for what seems like forever, until Jiyong’s voicemail recording plays softly in your ear. “He didn’t pick up.” You groan. “I’m gonna leave him a message.”
The girls laugh and encourage you, but you shush them as the phone beeps. “Hey, hey! Jiyong, man. I just wanted to call you real quick to tell you that you should pull that stick out of your ass.” You slur, and Chaerin basically falls off of her chair laughing. You continue, smile wide and heart racing. “You’re so… yeah, a dick.”
The girls laugh, trying to be quiet enough to not be heard on the message recording, but failing. You laugh harder at their reactions. “Ignore them all! I’m being very serious. You suck, like, majorly. Please remove the previously mentioned stick from your asshole. Before Monday would be great! K bye!” You end the message by hanging up, the five of you bursting into drunken laughter, falling all over each other.
The city lights are twinkling below Jiyong’s balcony, a thin line of smoke curling up above his head from the cigarette perched between his fingers. He takes a long drag, leaning over the railing and watching cars slowly pass before him.
His phone rings from his bedroom, but he doesn’t hear it. That doesn’t bother him. These moments–alone in his apartment, admiring the city and chainsmoking where no one could find him–saved his sanity. No strange looks or questions, no files or paperwork, nothing. Just him. A moment to breathe. But when he does eventually wander back to his bedroom, the most recent notification on his lockscreen caught his eye. A voicemail from your number.
His brow furrows. He takes his phone and plays the voicemail, expecting a nervous question about some naive marketing plan you’d come up with. But instead, he’s met with your drunken, slurred words of condescension, female laughter surrounding you as you spoke about a supposed stick up his ass. Jiyong pauses when the message finally ends, staring at his phone in disbelief. Anger pools in his stomach as your words run through his mind. How dare you speak to him that way? You’d basically just met, you don’t know him.
Reluctantly, he plays the message again. And again. But after listening to it almost five times, he ponders for a moment. Then, he starts laughing. Quiet, just to himself. But as it plays for the sixth time, your laughter echoing around his room, he can’t help but join in at your sheer audacity.
And something inside him shifts when the message ends. No one had ever spoken to him that way. He’d always enjoyed that about his job, his life. People respected him. But that respect was always laced with something deeper–fear. Intimidation. And maybe you also felt a little intimidated by him. But right then, surrounded by your friends and laughing at him, you weren’t. You weren’t scared of him or what he’d think. You were honest. And that is the highest form of respect someone could offer.
You roll over in your bed, alarm clock reading almost 3PM. You groan, rubbing your eyes and pulling the covers over your face. You reach over to your nightstand and grab your phone and pull it under the covers with you. The top notification makes your heart stop.
Jiyong: Got your message. Stick is removed.
You’re confused at first, but realization hits you like a truck. You quickly open the message and start typing, frantic and shaking. I am so fired.
You: Oh god, I’m so sorry. I was really drunk and with my friends, I barely remember recording that message.
Jiyong’s immediate typing bubbles make you flinch.
Jiyong: Don’t be. You’re bold. I like that.
You stare at that message for way too long. You don’t respond, because what are you supposed to say? You crawl out of bed reluctantly, dragging yourself into the shower. But his message never stops replaying in your mind. I like that.
Monday comes way too fast. You wake up a little late, so you spend the limited time you have rushing around your apartment before you leave. You throw on the first outfit you can put together–a low cut, red button up and a black skirt. Normal. Or so you thought.
You drive just slightly over the speed limit on your way to work, already nervous about your first interaction with Jiyong after whatever happened on Friday night. But then his message relays in your mind again. He didn’t mind, you remind yourself. He thought it was bold. He liked it. You walk into his office with a little more confidence, a kind smile on your face. But when Jiyong looks up at you from his computer, his expression drops.
Jiyong stares at you for longer than he should. His eyes, against his will, drop to your outfit. V neck. Low cut. Too low. Something inside his chest tightens. He feels a heat pool in his stomach, a soft sigh escaping his lips.
You notice immediately. Your eyes widen. The moment lasts way too long. He stares. You stare back.
Jiyong feels something shift in him. Then, he realizes. He’s hard. Fuck. He needs to get you out of here.
“No.” He shakes his head. “Change. Now.”
You stammer, trying to find words. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t-”
“Stop. Go change.” He drops his eyes to the short stack of paperwork before him, but his hand gives him away when it shakes while reaching for a pen.
You hesitate, confused, but eventually rush out of his office and back to your car. You rummage through the back seat and eventually find a sweater and pull it on. Then, you climb into the driver’s seat and sit for a moment. You don’t quite understand what happened. You thought you’d be fine, after how calm he reacted to your message on Friday. But as soon as you walked into his office, that changed. You’d worn this exact outfit to your own office before, and it never caused a problem. You stay in your car for a long moment, before reluctantly going back inside, pride a little crushed.
Meanwhile, Jiyong is panicking. He slid his chair as close to his desk as possible. Heat continued to grow between his thighs even after you’d left. He felt bad, of course. This isn’t fair to you. But he couldn’t help it. And he definitely couldn’t survive the day with you in that shirt.
The rest of the day passed extremely slow. Awkward tension hung in the air as you worked, mainly in silence. You tried your best to stay quiet and out of his way, guilt creeping up on you every time he looked in your direction. Jiyong played it off as a dress code violation. He told you that your outfit wasn’t professional. You accepted that answer, apologizing profusely, but something else simmered behind his tone.
When Jiyong arrives home, nothing changes. He thought that going home would fix it. That he would forget. But he didn’t. The image of you in that shirt replays in his mind all night. As he’s cooking dinner, when he nurses a bottle of soju on his balcony, when he finally falls into bed and stares at the ceiling for way too long.
He tries to push it away. To think about something else. Jiyong scrolls through his phone, but every email seems to twist into your name. He imagines that shirt. Reluctantly, he imagines what you might look like under that shirt.
His cock continues to ache in his pants. He tries everything he can think of to distract himself, but nothing works. Everything he does seems to remind him of you. Jiyong knows he shouldn’t, but his hand seems to move before he can stop himself. The guilt he feels is overpowered by the relief that washes over him when he finally takes his cock in his hand.
He strokes it slow at first, nothing but your image on his mind. His eyes squint shut, and just for a moment, he allows himself to imagine what he’d been avoiding all day. Jiyong pictures you, pictures your body underneath that little top, pictures what it might feel like to be thrusting his cock into your pussy instead of his hand.
That thought does it. His orgasm rips through him, release coating his stomach and his hand, your name slipping from his lips before he can hold it back.
Chaerin picks up on the second ring.
“Hey, babe. How are you? You never call me this late.” She says, and you sigh.
“Jiyong is an asshole.” You spit, and Chaerin laughs.
“Yeah, what else is new?”
“No, Chae. Complete and total asshole. That stick up his ass must’ve grown thorns.” You groan.
Chaerin sighs. “Talk to me.”
You sigh, falling into your bed. “He dress coded me today. Like we’re in fucking primary school.”
“What? Are you serious?” She sounds genuinely confused.
“Dead serious. He made me change my outfit. And it wasn’t even that bad! I was wearing that cute little red shirt and a plain black skirt. Literally nothing bad.” You sigh, running a hand over your face.
“That’s insane. You should report him.”
“To who? He’s literally the CEO of the company. And a fucking vampire, not to mention.”
“Still. That’s weird.” You can’t see her, but you can feel her eye roll through the phone.
“Tell me about it. He probably just wanted an excuse to ignore me or control me again. Like I said; asshole.”
Chaerin lets out a tired laugh. “Ignore him back. This project is only for, like, a month, right? It’ll be over eventually, and you’ll never have to see him again.”
“Yeah, I know. I just have to survive a little longer. Fuck me.” You chat with her for a little longer before fatigue claims you. You end the call and roll over in bed, burying yourself in the covers, dreading having to go into work the next morning.
The days that follow are no less awkward. You felt a little better about it all after talking to Chaerin, but that tension still hung in the air every time you entered Jiyong’s office. You wear clothing that you think would fit his standards better. He doesn’t revisit the conversation, the two of you strictly speaking about work from then on. But on the inside, Jiyong was losing it.
He couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t explain the feeling he got when you’d walk into his office. Couldn’t explain the tightness in his chest when you held his gaze for a second too long. Couldn’t explain the aching boner he’d wake up with every morning as his phone sat dead on his nightstand, your Instagram page still open. He didn’t know what drew him to you so much. And the worst part was that he couldn’t stop it.
You’re gathering your things at the end of the day, still avoiding Jiyong’s gaze. He watches you as you pull your jacket over your shoulders, breath catching in his throat. “I- I’ll see you tomorrow.” You offer Jiyong a small bow before heading for the door. Jiyong presses his lips together, then stands, reaching over his desk to reach for your wrist. You freeze, slowly turning back to him.
“Wait.” His eyes are telling, something a little more genuine than his usual tone behind them.
You hum in response as he lets go of your wrist.
“I, uhm, I’m sorry.” Jiyong mutters, gaze dropping to his feet. You’re instantly confused. Did he actually just say… sorry?
“You’re- why… what?” You stammer. Jiyong sighs, running a hand over his face.
“On Monday. I… shouldn’t have said anything about what you were wearing. I was out of line. So… I’m sorry.”
You’re speechless. You can’t think of anything to say. Jiyong considers ending it there. He considers telling you that you can go, and putting the whole thing behind him. But something inside him tells him otherwise. So he does something stupid.
“I’m going to tell you the truth, because I respect you.” He begins, eyes on you now.
You stay frozen. You don’t respond. You can’t. Jiyong sighs. He just needs to spit it out.
“I didn’t tell you to change because of a dress code. I told you to change because… because I couldn’t control myself.”
Your eyes widen. Confusion washes over you. Then, realization. “You… you what?” Anger seeps into your veins. Then fear. His fangs suddenly become very prominent.
“You heard me.” His tone is a little agitated, but after he pushes out a sharp exhale, it mellows. “I was… unprofessional. I couldn’t control myself, and that isn’t your fault. And I’m sorry.”
“Did you… want to bite me?” You say, and immediately regret it.
Jiyong’s eyes widen. “No- god, no. That isn’t what I meant. I- I don’t… use human blood.”
A beat of silence passes, and Jiyong doesn’t break your stare once. Then–
“I understand if you’re angry with me. I’d be angry if I were you. I also understand if you want to terminate this project. But I just wanted to tell you that it wasn’t anything you did.”
You sigh, finally looking away from him to study your shoes. “We aren’t going to scrap the project, Jiyong.” You don’t know why, but you aren’t angry. You should be. But you aren’t.
“Are you sure?” He asks, not expecting your response.
He nods reluctantly. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow, Jiyong.” You say, but you don’t leave right away. You hold his gaze, and he reciprocates. But as you do finally go to leave-
You don’t know what comes over you. You drop your briefcase to the floor, and before Jiyong can get another word in, your lips are on his. He freezes for a second, but it doesn’t take long for him to melt into it. You jump and wrap your legs around Jiyong’s waist. His hands grip your ass and his tongue slips between your lips. Every single worry or fear about those fangs falls away by his intoxicating taste.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Jiyong groans into your mouth.
Jiyong puts you down on his desk, dropping to his knees before you. He rips off your skirt and panties, discarding them to the side but never taking his eyes off of you. His tongue instantly connects with your clit, swirling around and pressing into you as his hands roam your thighs.
“Jiyong!” You moan, head falling back.
You should be scared. You should push him off and run to your car. But that thought doesn’t cross your mind once.
“Quiet. These walls aren’t sound proof.” He breathes into your heat.
Jiyong moves his hand to your entrance, pressing two fingers inside without warning as his tongue pushes down on your clit. He works you so perfectly, at the best pace, and you feel your orgasm creeping up way too fast.
“I- I’m so close- fuck,” You groan, fingers finding his hair and tugging just slightly, holding him there.
“Come for me. I want to taste you.” He mutters. Jiyong doesn’t let up. He sucks on your clit again and again, pressing hard with his tongue just enough to send you over the edge.
You come hard, thighs clenching around his head. Jiyong works you through it until you’re a whimpering mess on his desk. When you come down from your high, you finally look down and meet his eyes. His pupils are blown, irises glowing-
You flinch, shuffling off his desk and pressing your back to the wall of his office. Panic sets in. What the fuck did you just do?
Jiyong freezes, still on his knees, eyes wide with panic and confusion. He blinks rapidly as realization washes over him.
“Don’t come any closer, please.” You stammer, voice uncertain and shaky. “I- oh god, what did I do? I…”
You fall to the floor, fingers tugging at your hair so hard you start to feel a headache. Jiyong watches you, and slowly but steadily crawls your way.
“No, no please, Jiyong, don’t-”
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He whispers, so soft it’s almost not there.
Why did you let him do that? Letting a vampire eat you out? What were you thinking? And those eyes… you’d never seen his eyes look like that before.
“Y/N?” Jiyong’s voice finally pokes through your haze, and you slowly look up at him, tears pricking at your eyes.
“No, please don’t be. It’s my eyes, right? They’re red?” He asks, tone gentle. You shakily nod.
“I… can’t control it. It happens sometimes when my heart rate goes up. I wasn’t going to hurt you, I promise.”
You listen closely, still breathing a little shaky. Jiyong slowly reaches behind him and grabs your clothes, sliding them across the floor to you.
“You can go home and we can never speak of this again. If you want.” He offers. He sounds so genuine. So careful. Almost… scared.
“I… don’t know what I want.” You don’t take your clothes. You sit still, eyes fixed on him, watching his eyes slowly melt back to their original brown.
“It never crossed my mind. B- biting you, I mean. I wasn’t going to hurt you.” He leans his head against his desk.
“Okay.” The word slips from your lips slowly. You continue to hold his gaze.
Fear seeps into Jiyong’s chest. He hates this. Hates how you’re looking at him like he’s a dangerous monster. Hates how you crawled away in terror when you saw the one thing he couldn’t control.
“I wouldn’t hurt you. I don’t do that. I don’t… I don’t hurt people.” His breathing is shaky now too.
“I’m… I’m going to go home.” You say eventually, slowly grabbing your clothes and pulling them back on. Jiyong doesn’t respond. He simply watches you, eyes tracking your every movement.
You grab the briefcase you’d dropped and go to leave, but pause briefly before opening the door. You turn back, meeting Jiyong’s eyes.
“I’m not scared. Not anymore. I… was. For a minute. But I’m not anymore.” You sigh, pressing your lips together. “I just thought you should know that.”
“Hey, haven’t heard from you in a few days. How’s my company?” Seunghyun’s voice is kind, more level than it usually is.
“Our company, asshole. And it’s fine.” Jiyong smiles momentarily, but it fades just as quickly as it arrived.
“Everything okay? You sound somber.” Seunghyun asks, tone shifting to genuine concern.
Seunghyun laughs low. “You’re a bad liar, Ji. Always have been.”
Jiyong sighs, running a hand over his face. “I did something that I probably shouldn’t have done. And I’m going to tell you. And you aren’t going to freak out.”
“God, what did you do?” Seunghyun groans, expecting some paperwork slip up or an altercation with a coworker.
“I did something. With that girl. The designer.” Jiyong says blankly.
“What? Did you sleep with her?”
Seunghyun huffs a laugh. “Almost?”
“I… ate her out on my desk.”
“You what?” Seunghyun gasps.
“I told you not to freak out.” Jiyong groans, laying on his bed and carding his fingers through his hair. “Something… else happened.”
“My eyes went red again. And… it scared her. I scared her.”
Seunghyun sighs. “Jiyong…”
“She thought I was going to bite her.”
“No. I don’t- I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do because I think I like her and I don’t do that. I don’t date. I don’t- I don’t apologize or get attached or play nice with people-”
“Jiyong, stop. You’re spiraling.” Seunghyun cuts in. Jiyong exhales long and slow, rubbing away the tears that prick at his eyes.
“And I scared her. That’s the worst part. I don’t want to be scary.” His tone is softer now, innocent.
“You aren’t scary, Jiyong.”
“I don’t want people to be scared of me, Seunghyun. That’s always been my biggest fear.” Jiyong’s voice breaks on the last word, a soft cry dying in his throat.
“I know.” Seunghyun sighs. “Talk to her tomorrow. Be honest. I know vulnerability isn’t your strong suit, but just pretend like you’re talking to me.”
“It’s not that easy. She’s… different. She’s different from the others.”
“Talk to her, Jiyong. You’ve still got a couple weeks until I come home.”
Jiyong bites the inside of his cheek. “Okay.”
The click of your apartment door shutting behind you makes you flinch.
You drop your bag at the door. Your jacket seems to fall from your shoulders. You don’t notice it.
Steam curls in the shower as you stare at yourself in the mirror. You drop your clothes to the floor and you step into the hot water, just letting it run across your body for a few minutes.
You stay in the shower for longer than you should. Your mind never stops racing.
Jiyong’s voice replays in your head.
Your bed seems to swallow you whole. Your wet hair leaves a damp spot on your pillow. You dig your fingernails into your palm.
Why did you do that? Why did you let it go that far?
You were scared. When you saw his eyes, you were scared.
Letting a vampire get that close to you with his mouth? What were you thinking?
But the worst part about all of this–you aren’t scared anymore.
His voice. The soft words of reassurance. The genuine tone in his speech. The look of dread when he realized what had happened.
You shouldn’t be sitting here feeling bad for him. You should probably take him up on his offer to terminate the project. Forget about it all.
You can’t forget about it.
Because there is something about Jiyong that is truly unforgettable.
The days that follow are a lot less awkward than you thought they’d be. Jiyong is comfortable. You actually hear him laugh once at a dumb joke you’d told. He smiles. Not much. Barely there when he does. But he does.
Neither of you bring up that day. You focus the best you can on your work. You walk into the Seolleda building, through the hallway, up the elevator, and into his office every single day. And you talk. Almost as if you’re friends.
Jiyong tries his best to push it aside. To move forward with your professional relationship and finish this project. But that day still runs laps through his mind.
He’s terrified of being seen like that. Like dangerous. Like a monster.
Like how you saw him. Even if the moment of fear was short-lived, it still happened. And Jiyong definitely hasn’t forgotten.
You enter his office, offering Jiyong a soft smile as you slide into the chair across from his desk. You really didn’t need to be in his office to do your work every single day, but he insisted. Multiple times.
“Morning.” Jiyong looks up from his computer briefly, then right back to typing.
“Good morning, Jiyong.” You bow just slightly, pulling out your laptop.
Comfortable silence settles in between you. You focus on your work, and so does Jiyong.
The day passes slowly. It’s quiet in his office, except for the low tapping of his fingers on the keyboard. His eyes keep meeting yours. Brief, sure. But definitely significant.
Jiyong is unusually quiet. He doesn’t typically speak much, but today, he doesn’t speak barely at all. And it irks you.
You don’t quite know why, but something about the silent stares really sets you off.
So you break the silence.
Jiyong almost flinches, meeting your eyes. “Yeah, I’m good. Why?”
Jiyong lets out a low laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine, Y/N.”
You hum in response, staring him down through your lashes. After a second, you speak again.
“Is it about what happened a few days ago?”
Jiyong pauses and meets your gaze. His eyes flutter shut, as if planning out what he should say in his head. He lets out a soft sigh.
“I know… I know you’re saying you aren’t scared.” He says finally, voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m not.” You correct him, and he sighs again, more strained this time.
“But,” he discards the papers he was holding to his desk, intertwining his fingers, “you were. Even if just for a moment, you were. And… it’s all I’ve been thinking about.”
You press your lips together and hold his gaze. He parts his lips again as if to speak, but he doesn’t.
“Growing up, we were always taught to be scared of vampires,” you say after a long pause, slowly shutting your laptop to give him your full attention, “I’ve never really had to interact with them, until I met you. I wasn’t scared. I was ignorant.”
Jiyong studies that thought for a moment. He considers it.
Blissful ignorance, not fear. New experiences, not old trauma.
It feels foreign to him. It feels… better.
You take his silence as cue to continue.
“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me, Jiyong. I’d just… never seen anything like that before. Your eyes, I mean.”
He pauses another minute, then nods slowly.
You let out a soft laugh, to yourself mainly. “It was actually… kind of beautiful, in hindsight.”
Jiyong’s expression falters, but he fixes it before you can notice.
He’d never heard that word used to describe him before. Let alone used to describe that side of him. It’s alien. It’s confusing, but oddly comforting.
“Really?” Jiyong asks, not joining in on your laughter.
“Really.” You confirm. A sly smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.
“Beautiful.” Jiyong whispers to himself, liking how the word tastes on his tongue.
You lean forward on his desk. “I don’t really know much about vampires. They were always painted to us as… well, something to be avoided.”
Jiyong finally cracks a smile. Small, but there. “Perhaps I need to teach you some, then.”
You hold your collected expression, but on the inside, you’re losing it. Your chest tightens, brain turning to fog. The only thing you can focus on are his eyes–growing darker by the second.
He’s clearly oblivious to this, but you know what it means.
“Perhaps.” You tilt your head a little to the left, your smile becoming mischievous. Jiyong lets out a low laugh, fangs peeking just through the thin opening between his lips.
“Well…” Jiyong leans over his desk as well, knuckles brushing against yours. “Feel that?”
You nod. “You’re freezing.”
“No blood.” He responds, a little too quickly. Like it’s casual.
You take his hand again before thinking. His icy skin makes your hand tingle. You hadn’t noticed how truly cold he was when he’d been all over you a few days ago.
“Aren’t vampires, like, super strong too?”
Jiyong scoffs, letting you hold his hand. He nods. “Yes, I’d say so.”
You bite your bottom lip just a little.
“Show me.” You brush your thumb across his knuckles.
Jiyong laughs low, short lived and so stupidly attractive. His eyes are a deep crimson now.
He stands suddenly, walking around his desk and stopping right before you. Then, he does something you aren’t expecting. He slides both of his hands to your waist, cold against your flushed skin. He lifts you with practiced ease, as if lifting nothing but air. He presses you against his chest, giving you no other choice than wrapping your legs around his hips.
Jiyong holds you in place briefly with one arm firm on your back while the other slips down under your ass, allowing you to basically sit on his forearm.
“You weigh nothing.” He removes the arm from your back and brings it up to pinch at your cheek teasingly.
You feel your stomach drop when his other hand squeezes just slightly on the curve of your ass, obviously not for grip, for his pure enjoyment.
“Your eyes are red again.” You say, tone low and accompanied by a telling smirk.
“Are you scared?” He asks, his thumb now brushing gently across your jawline.
You feel your heart racing. You wouldn’t be surprised if it’s visible as it pounds against your chest. But not from fear this time.
“Any other secrets?” You ask, intrigued. Jiyong scoffs.
“I may have a few things up my sleeve.” His thumb reaches up to your bottom lip, brushing it lightly, leaving his fingerprint indented in your lipgloss.
Jiyong leans in slowly, calculated. His lips graze yours, so soft, so delicate it almost hurts. His thumb continues to brush your cheekbone and his other continues to grab at your ass.
Your hands find his hair, carding through his dark locks as the kiss deepens.
Jiyong’s tongue glides along your lips like it’s asking for permission. You grant it. Your lips part absentmindedly. His hand slides from your face backward and down your shoulder blades, down to the small of your back, and slowly up your shirt. The temperature of his fingers make you stiffen, but your own heat is enough to keep you steady in his grasp.
Jiyong traces lazy circles on your back as his tongue sweeps across your teeth. He carries you back to his chair and sits down easily with you in his lap. He never separates his lips from yours.
Heat pools between your thighs, but not like before.
Not impulsive or immediate.
Jiyong slides your top off, only pulling back from your lips just enough to pull the fabric over your head and discard it on the floor, before capturing you again in a kiss. You carefully unbutton his shirt and run your hands across his chest.
He lets out a soft groan into your mouth as your thumb brushes across his nipple, his hand still gripping your ass and pulling you as close as possible. He shrugs off his shirt and his fingers find the clasp of your bra, twisting it and easily undoing it so it falls between you two.
“You’re… god…” Jiyong’s lips move down, leaving wet marks along the crook of your neck and collarbone.
He can’t ignore the scent now.
He’s trained himself over centuries to be immune to human scent. To not follow it. To ignore it.
But right now with his face pressed into your neck, his hands all over your body, it’s getting a little difficult to not drown in it.
He’d never actually bite.
But this scent–your scent–he feels like he could be swallowed whole by it.
You walk your fingers down his chest and stomach, stopping at his belt. You fumble with the buckle without faltering the kiss once.
“Hey,” Jiyong pauses, pulling away just for a moment, “we don’t have to-”
“I want to.” You interrupt as you finally slide his belt open.
“Are you sure?” Jiyong confirms, and you nod.
“Yes. I’m trying to learn here.”
Jiyong huffs a laugh, fingers moving to unzip your skirt. You slowly lean in again and connect your lips with his. You pull down his own zipper, the hard outline of his cock brushing against your hand through the fabric of his boxers.
You slide your hand under his boxers, his cock already leaking as you free it and take him in your hand.
Jiyong gasps, head falling back against the back of his chair. You take this opportunity to press your lips to his neck and run your tongue along his jaw, pumping him slowly and brushing your thumb along his tip.
“Fuck… you’re going to kill me.” He breathes, and you giggle against his skin.
“Pretty sure you’re already dead, Jiyong.”
He laughs again, low and breathy. “Touché.”
Jiyong’s shaky hands slide your skirt off in one motion, discarding it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. His hands move to your thighs, nails digging into your skin and leaving tiny crescent moons along the way.
Jiyong suddenly removes one hand, reaching over to his desk and grabbing his wallet. His hand returns holding a golden square package.
You almost laugh. “Do you just carry condoms on you at all times?”
“You never know when you’ll meet a girl that you just can’t wait for.”
Jiyong rips the package open with his fang, wasting no time sliding the rubber over his cock and lifting you with his other arm. He pushes your panties aside and allows you a moment to align your entrance with his aching cock.
He meets your eyes, as if asking for authority to continue, and you nod. He slowly lowers you down onto his cock, letting you adjust to every inch until he bottoms out.
You gasp when his tip brushes against your spot. “Oh my god…”
“You feel, fuck… you feel incredible.” Jiyong groans, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes.
“Can I move?” You ask, a little more desperate than you intended. Jiyong nods without hesitation.
You start slow. You raise your hips, hands pressed against Jiyong’s chest for support. Jiyong watches you so intensely with such admiration, eyes burning red, but you don’t mind now.
Your pace picks up when you feel his grip on your hips tighten and his cock twitch in the suffocation of your cunt.
“God, Y/N… please don’t stop.” He helps you now, both hands cradling your hips and bouncing you up and down as your fingers dig into his hair again. You tug at it, not tight, but grounding.
Jiyong’s tip bruises that spot inside you that aches so badly for him again and again. You lean in, unable to contain yourself and needing something to occupy your mouth. Your tongue connects with Jiyong’s jaw again, tracing his lines so gently, his skin cold against your warm mouth.
The sound of Jiyong’s groans and skin on skin contact fill the room. Jiyong sets a quick pace, but never unforgiving. He’s so far gone, completely engulfed by your scent, your touch, your warmth, you. The edge creeps up on you, your thighs shaking lightly against his.
Jiyong hums in response, raspy and authentic. “Cum for me, pretty girl. Let me feel you fall apart.”
That’s all you need. You unravel on top of him, letting out a high-pitched whimper into the crook of his neck as your orgasm washes over you. Jiyong lets you ride him through it until he follows, burying himself deep as his cock twitches inside you. He fills the condom and leans his head against yours, letting out a deep groan next to your ear.
Neither of you move for a long moment. You both just breathe as you come down from your high, your warm cheek pressed to the icy skin of his neck. Eventually, Jiyong moves. He lifts you off of him, but he doesn’t move you far. He places you back down on his lap so your legs dangle off of his chair from one side, enough room left between you for him to peel off the condom and discard it in his garbage can. His other hand comes back up to your face, tilting your chin to face him and pressing a soft, slow kiss to your lips.
“Your eyes are beautiful, Jiyong.” Is the first thing you can think of to say. And it’s completely true. You admire his crimson irises, bright as ever.
“Hmm,” Jiyong drops his gaze to your lips shyly. Both of your movements are slow as clothes find their way to your bodies again. He can’t take his eyes off of you. When you gather yourself and the rest of your things, you pause at Jiyong’s office door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” You smile, genuine. Jiyong nods, but before you can leave-
You turn back, still grinning. “Yeah?”
Jiyong grins. “What are you doing tonight?”
The bar lights are low when you and Jiyong enter, faint music playing accompanied by the loud chatter of people. Jiyong’s hand finds the small of your back, guiding you to a small booth near the back. You’d been very surprised when he’d asked you out. You really didn’t strike Kwon Jiyong as the type to… well, date. But here you are, in a bar, sitting across from an ancient vampire in a pub you will definitely have to use your credit card to pay the bill at.
A waitress appears at your table almost immediately, smiley and young, sliding menus in front of you and Jiyong.
“Whisky, neat.” Jiyong says after the girl introduces herself, never taking his eyes off of you.
“I’ll have a glass of white. Whatever bottle is closest.” You smile, and the waitress lets out a soft giggle.
“I’ll have those right out for you.” She says as she disappears into the crowd.
You turn your attention back to Jiyong. “Stop staring at me.”
Jiyong laughs low. “Sorry. Can’t help it.”
You lightly kick his shin under the table. “This has to be… some sort of HR violation.”
“Probably. Does that make you want to stop?”
You reach over the table and brush your fingers against his hand. “This is, like, a real date. Right?”
“Yes, Y/N. You’ve asked me that four times.” He smirks, taking your hand in his.
“I know. Sorry. You just…”
“Don’t seem like the type? Yeah, I've heard that before.” He shakes his head.
“No, it’s okay. My reputation is no fault but my own.” Jiyong shrugs.
You pause for a moment, studying his expression, but you can’t quite come to a full conclusion.
“So… why me? I mean, I’ve heard all these things about you being stuck up and stuff. And you remember the voicemail…”
Jiyong laughs, covering his mouth with his fist. “I do, indeed.”
“So why are you nice to me? I feel like I’m part of some elite group that I don’t remember auditioning for.” You ask, tone a little more serious now.
Jiyong sighs, pondering with his answer for a moment.
“You… aren’t like the other women I’ve met.”
You narrow your eyes. “I’m flattered.”
“I’m serious, Y/N. You’re… honest. You treat me like I’m a person.”
Jiyong just smiles at that. You squeeze his hand slightly as the waitress returns with your drinks. Those drinks seem to refill on their own. Again, and again, and again. The next thing you know, you’re dragging Jiyong to the dance floor, forcing him to spin you around in a small opening in the crowd. He grins, complying with a hand on your waist and fingers intertwining with yours.
“You look beautiful.” He mutters, inaudible to everyone except for the two of you.
You smirk, spinning around while holding his hand to keep you steady. You have no idea how long this goes on for. All of the previous worries fade away simultaneously as Jiyong dances with you, fangs peeking out through his boyish grin.
And Jiyong? He feels comfortable. The most comfortable he’s felt in weeks. He admires you, watches you giggle as you trip over your own feet. He tells himself that it’s the alcohol, but deep down, he knows that isn’t the case. Something about you continues to draw him in, and he’s going to eventually put his finger on what.
“Y/N,” Jiyong leans in, speaking close enough to your ear for only you to understand, “I’m going to get some fresh air for a moment, if that’s okay.”
You nod. “Sure. I’ll get us another round. Meet me back at the booth.”
He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, before slipping away into the crowd. He watches as you approach the bar and fall into a stool. He told the truth, mostly. Fresh air sounds lovely right now after being in that stuffy crowd for what felt like hours. But that other part he failed to mention was hunger.
He had no issue controlling himself at this point in his life. He doesn’t use human blood to fulfill his thirst. But, nonetheless, being in crowds surrounded by sweaty humans is still enough to cause him to stumble. Better safe than sorry, he thinks as he pushes the front door of the bar forward. He finds a small bench outside of the door and sits back. Jiyong pulls out the pack of cigarettes in his pocket along with his small lighter.
Smoking was a bad habit he’d been carrying for decades. He’s found it to be the only thing that helps with the hunger when he isn’t home to satisfy it properly with his usual animal blood. But, he is already dead. Not getting any more dead anytime soon, so what’s the harm?
You bring the two drinks back to the booth, expecting to find Jiyong there waiting for you, but instead, no one. You furrow a brow, setting down the glasses on the table and immediately walking toward the exit of the bar. You push the door open, and low and behold, there he is–only illuminated by the dimly lit cigarette before him.
Smoke curls high above Jiyong’s head, the cigarette perched delicately between his fingers. You lean against the entrance to the bar for a moment, watching his calm demeanour before joining him on the bench. His gaze turns to yours as he blows out a slow cloud of smoke from the side of his mouth. You offer a soft smile, and he reciprocates. You pick the cigarette from his fingers and take a short drag, letting the smoke linger in your mouth and slowly fall off your lips.
“Since when do you smoke? It’s bad for you, you know.” Jiyong shakes his head. You blow the remainder of the smoke straight into his face.
“I like a cigarette when I’m drinking. Is that a problem for you?” You smirk, and Jiyong bites his tongue.
“Not a problem.” Jiyong reclaims his cigarette and takes another long hit. You watch as cars pass, lights just a little blurry from the alcohol. Silence is accompanied by the sounds of the city, and the soft crackle of the burning tobacco between Jiyong’s fingers.
“Hey, you’re really old.” You begin, slurring your words just a little. Jiyong laughs louder than you’d ever heard.
“Rude.” He flicks ash at your shoes.
“How do you keep doing it? Going to work every day and doing your job well. After all those years, how do you keep doing it? It must get boring.”
Jiyong stiffens. “I don’t know, I love my job. You know what they say–love what you do and you never work a day in your life.”
“Boring.” You stretch out the word dramatically, and Jiyong rolls his eyes.
“Alright, fine.” Jiyong turns to you, leaning forward on his knees. “Most vampires don’t get this kind of privilege. Most of us aren’t even able to hold a job or go to college, let alone start and maintain a multi-million dollar company. I keep doing it for them. For the others who didn’t choose this life and who don’t get to live it like I do.”
Your eyes widen. That… isn’t what you were expecting. You nod slowly, humming low.
“How did you turn, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.” The words sound casual coming off your lips, but they cause Jiyong to freeze.
“I don’t think you want to hear that story.” His tone turns colder, almost bitter at the thought of the memory. Though it was nearly 200 years ago, that night will never be removed from his recall.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to hear.” You let out an innocent giggle, but it dies on your tongue when you see the expression on Jiyong’s face.
Jiyong sighs, pressing his lips together. “You sure?”
You nod, turning to face him and sitting cross legged on the bench. “Try me.”
“If you insist.” Jiyong copies you, turning your way and meeting your eyes. “Seunghyun and I were 19 and my sister was 21. It was the summer of 1853. July, to be exact. Seunghyun was over. He always was. He basically lived with me when we were growing up.” He lets out a bitter laugh, but it dies as soon as it’s born.
“We were at home with my parents when… when someone broke in. It was late. They got to my parents first. All we heard from the basement was screams and… laughter. Horrifying laughter. My sister- uhm, Dami. Dami told us to stay quiet and stay downstairs, but we didn’t listen. We followed her. We both followed her and-”
Jiyong’s voice broke on the last word, and he takes a long breath before he speaks again. You don’t interrupt. Not a word.
“There was blood everywhere. My parents were dead when we got there. There were two vampires, two women. I held Dami and Seunghyun held me while we watched them kill my parents.”
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes against your will. You blink them away.
“In the end they turned all three of us. Something about being too thin to get enough good blood. So they turned us. Prevented us from involving the police. Cops would just blame us for it all.”
You watch him with intensity. You expected something tragic, but you didn’t see anything like that coming.
“Ever since then, Dami and Seunghyun have been the only ones I’ve kept close. The only ones I’ve let in. Except for you. I just let you in.”
You let all of that sit with you for a moment. You feel your heart tighten.
“That is… the most I’ve ever heard you speak.”
Jiyong huffs a small laugh, sniffling. “I think I’ve had a little too much to drink. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”
You shake your head. “No, it’s okay. I wouldn’t ever tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Jiyong sighs, nodding slowly. “Thank you.”
You hum in response, reaching out and taking his hand. You give it a comforting squeeze and inch slightly closer to lean your head on his shoulder.
You’re very thankful for the alcohol right now. Something to blame this bold touching on tomorrow.
“That’s why I asked you not to call me Mr. Kwon, by the way.” He speaks after a silent pause. “My father was Mr. Kwon. That isn’t me.”
You nod. “That makes sense.”
Silence settles in again, but it is anything but awkward. It’s heavy, but comfortable. Charged with something neither of you can name.
“You know,” he begins, flicking the butt of his cigarette on the ground before him and stepping on it, “I’ve never really been on a real date. Not like this.”
You sit up instantly. “You mean… this is your first date?”
He cracks a smile finally, laughing a little. “Alright, alright. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late. My ego is growing by the second.”
Jiyong shakes his head, placing a hand on your thigh. “Most of the time, women just want me for sex. So I ended up searching for just that. Which is my theory as to why you are affecting me so much.”
You place a hand on your chest, humble. “I’m honoured.”
“Quit that,” he swats your hand away, both of you giggling softly, “I don’t just want sex from you. Which isn’t like me.”
“Well, I don’t just want sex from you either.” You add, tilting your head a little. He smiles.
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
You smile, and so does he, utterly authentic.
“C’mon, let’s go back in. I can hear the music from here, and I love this song.” You beam, and Jiyong nods.
When he finally settles on his balcony after bringing you home, Jiyong wastes no time lighting a cigarette and calling Seunghyun. He answers on the second ring.
“Hyung, I’ve been waiting to hear from you.” He greets, and a small smile tugs at Jiyong’s mouth.
“I just got home from our date.” He says, and Seunghyun audibly gasps.
“Who are you and what have you done with Jiyong?”
“I’m going to hang up on you.” Jiyong laughs, running a hand through his hair.
Jiyong sighs. “Really good. I think. I hope.”
Seunghyun chuckles low. “I’m glad.”
“I told her the story. About that night.” Jiyong blurts. Seunghyun goes quiet for a long moment. Jiyong continues. “I don’t really know why. We were sitting outside and… I got carried away, I guess. But she didn’t run away or anything, so I think I’m in the clear.”
Seunghyun exhales sharply. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Only, like… a few. Plus two.”
Jiyong ponders the question for a moment, thinking hard about his answer.
“I think I do. Is that bad?”
Seunghyun shakes his head, even though Jiyong can’t see him. “No. Not inherently.”
Jiyong hums, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “I like her.”
“But she’s human.” Jiyong states. Seunghyun pauses, rubbing his eyes.
Another pause. Silence stretches between them, the crackle of Jiyong’s cigarette suddenly becoming very prevalent.
“I don’t want to overwhelm her. With vampire stuff.” Jiyong says finally.
“I don’t know. She seems pretty receptive to me.” Seunghyun offers, and Jiyong huffs a short laugh.
“Don’t push her away. You always do that.” Seunghyun’s tone is more serious now.
“I’ll try my best. I seem to do that unconsciously.” Jiyong laughs low, but it’s short-lived.
Seunghyun hums. “I think you can manage.”
The two of them talk for a little before Jiyong claims fatigue and hangs up. But he doesn’t sleep right away. He finds himself smiling thinking of your sweet laugh. What could possibly go wrong?
The morning comes with the sun shining way too bright between the curtains and straight onto your face. You groan when you open your eyes, a small noise that dies on your tongue as soon as you roll over. Your bed is empty. You knew it would be, Jiyong hadn’t slept over last night. But now you kind of wish that he had.
You reach over to your nightstand and grab your phone. 1PM. God. Jiyong’s text from last night catches your eye first.
Jiyong: Sleep well. Let’s do that again. Soon.
You smile unconsciously and type back.
You: Yes we should. Pick a date
He responds almost immediately.
Jiyong: Next Friday. You can choose the place. I’m not picky.
You don’t respond right away, shoving your phone into the pocket of your sweats and walking to the kitchen. You take your time making coffee, and eventually settle on your couch with whatever drama you saw first on Netflix playing in the background.
The morning is quiet and steady. Until it isn’t. Chaerin comes bursting through your front door without warning.
“Hey!” She kicks off her shoes, making herself at home immediately. This is normal for her. Ever since sharing a dorm in college, there really aren't any boundaries in your friendship.
“Hey.” Your tone is calmer than hers, smiling kindly as she settles next to you on the couch. “Oh god, Chae. I have so much to tell you.”
Chaerin basically vibrates at that. “Tell me everything right now. Spare no details.”
And you do. You tell her about the first time with Jiyong, his eyes, his kind words. About the second time. And especially, about the date. Once you finish, Chaerin is still, mouth agape.
“Wow. You weren’t kidding.” She huffs a laugh. You nod. “Are you sure about this, Y/N? About… dating a vampire?”
You sigh. You knew this would come. “I thought I wouldn’t be. But I actually am. He isn’t like any of the stories we were told as kids. He’s… he’s nice.”
She presses her lips together. “I trust you. But please be careful, okay? They’re known to be… unpredictable.”
That almost makes you laugh. “He’s not like that. I promise. You’ll have to meet him sometime.”
She scoffs. “We’ll see about that.”
Seunghyun returns about a week later. He reunites with Jiyong after a long flight, holding him in a hug for a long while. But although he’s back in Seoul, he doesn’t come into the office often. He’s stuck in meetings with investors regarding the upcoming launch of Seolleda’s new product line, so things at work stay as they were for the most part.
You find yourself delaying the submissions of your ad designs slightly, subconsciously stalling the project as you and Jiyong grow closer. Things only improve from your first date. Jiyong is still professional at work, mainly quiet, especially when you’re both pulled into meetings or around anyone else. But he’s comfortable. You can tell.
He takes you out often. You actually have way more in common than you had thought. You’re both avid lovers of art, often choosing art museums or pop-up exhibits for dates. You love his perspective on art pieces, and the two of you always find yourself bouncing ideas off of each other and lingering at the same painting for way longer than you should. And Jiyong loves every minute of it.
He’d never let himself experience this kind of thing before. It’s always just been sex. No strings attached. No feelings. But with you? It’s almost like he had no choice but to fall for you.
His worries fade slowly, every compliment about his eyes and graze of your tongue over his fangs eases his mind more than you could know. He is finally starting to feel normal again, for the first time in centuries.
One night, while lazing on Jiyong’s couch, your cheek against his cold, bare chest, he proposes something that you aren’t expecting.
“Y/N?” His tone is soft, his fingers stroking through your hair slowly.
“My sister is coming to Seoul for a little while. Business stuff.”
You have to admit, you get a little nervous. “That’s good. I bet you’re excited to see her.”
“I am, yeah.” He reaches down and tilts your chin up. “And I want you to meet her.”
Your eyes widen. “Really?”
You ponder that for a moment.
He wants you to meet his family.
“Okay. Yeah. I’d love to.” You say finally, and Jiyong nods, satisfied.
“Great. She’s going to stay here for a bit.”
You smile. “We should have dinner one night then.”
“We will.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, lingering and sweet.
Dami enters Jiyong’s house without knocking. Jiyong had given her a key as soon as he moved in. She finds him sitting at his kitchen island alone, a vinyl playing softly in the background as he eats. Jiyong springs out of his seat as soon as he hears her, pulling her into a tight hug.
“Hi.” Dami smiles, wrapping her arms around him just as tightly.
“I missed you.” Jiyong smiles against her hair.
“I missed you too, Ji. You’ve been good?” She pulls back, her hands lingering on his arms. He nods.
“Yeah. Really good. Have you?”
“Yeah, I have.” She gives his arms a comforting squeeze. “Where’s this girl I’ve been hearing so much about?”
Jiyong laughs softly. “At home. She’s coming by tomorrow after work for dinner.”
“Perfect. I’ll need to meet her.” Dami nods, joining him at the counter and stealing his chopsticks, picking at his plate.
“How’s work? Seunghyun is back now, right?”
Jiyong nods, sitting next to her and stealing them back. “Yeah, but still not at the office too much. A lot of work with this upcoming launch.”
“I bet you’ve got a lot of work, too.”
“I do. But, if I’m being honest, I’ve been ignoring the work I probably should be focusing on and putting all of my attention into marketing.” Jiyong laughs to himself, and Dami huffs.
“That doesn’t have anything to do with a certain marketing designer, does it?” She teases, and Jiyong rolls his eyes.
The rest of the night is spent catching up mostly, laughing at inside jokes and eventually ending in multiple glasses of wine. Jiyong has always been closest to Dami. Even before they turned, he and his sister were best friends. But especially now, neither of them really had anyone else but each other. And Seunghyun, of course, but he was like a brother to both of them now.
You go home with Jiyong after work the next day. Dami was pulled into a last minute meeting last minute, giving you a little time alone with Jiyong before dinner.
“Am I crazy for being nervous?” You ask, flopping face first onto his bed.
He laughs. “Crazy isn’t the word I’d use. But you have no reason to be nervous.”
You groan. “What if she doesn’t like me?”
“She’s going to love you. Please don’t worry. I promise she doesn’t bite.”
You shoot him a dangerous side eye. “Not funny.”
Jiyong laughs again, clearly amused by his joke. He joins you, allowing you to lay your head against his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. And I’ll be there the whole time.”
Dami returns home about an hour later, just as Jiyong and you finish cooking dinner. She kicks off her shoes and the sound causes you to tense up.
“About time.” Jiyong points a spatula at her. She narrows her eyes, but as soon as she sees you, she lights up.
“You must be Y/N.” She approaches you and, to your surprise, pulls you into a hug. “It’s very nice to finally meet you.”
She’s freezing, just like Jiyong.
“You too. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
She scoffs. “I’ve definitely heard more about you. He never shuts up about you.”
“Dami, stop.” Jiyong warns, but Dami only laughs.
“Aw, you talk about me, Jiyongie?” You give him a childish pout, and he rolls his eyes.
“I like her.” Dami smiles, taking a seat at the table and gesturing for you to join her.
Awkwardness is completely absent, unexpectedly. You soon discover that Jiyong and Dami are very similar. You get along with her so easily, Dami finding fun in finally having someone to help her tease her brother. It goes so well in fact, that Dami offers to go out for a few drinks after dinner.
“Ji, do you guys still go to that dive bar across from your office? I loved that place when I lived here.”
Jiyong nods. “Yeah, Seunghyun and I still go there after work sometimes. Why?”
Dami shrugs. “If you guys are up to it, maybe you would wanna go for a drink or two? My meetings don’t start until 2PM tomorrow, and you can kind of make your own hours.”
Jiyong thinks for a moment, then nods. “Sure.”
Dami turns to you. “Are you up for it?”
“I’m not sure, I’ll have to ask my boss for the day off tomorrow, I think.” You smile, looking to Jiyong. He squeezes your hand that he’s been holding over the table with a kind grin.
Dami giggles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
The three of you find yourself at the barstools not soon after, Jiyong with his arm draped around your shoulders and all three of you with drinks in hand. After a bit of laughter, Dami excuses herself to the washroom.
You take this opportunity to drag Jiyong to the dance floor. He pretends to be annoyed, but doesn’t protest when you pull his arm into the crowd. Dami returns to find you dancing, and she returns to the bar and orders another drink. Jiyong gives her a smile and returns his gaze to you. Jiyong slides his hand on your waist, moving his hips side to side along with the music. You giggle at his stiff dancing.
“You suck at this.” You lean in to whisper. Jiyong scoffs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“You’re good enough for the both of us.” He grins, and you spin on his hand, proving his point.
Jiyong just watches you, wondering how he got this lucky. He never thought he’d be in this position–a beautiful girl smiling before him, genuine laughter, and something so domestic it almost hurts. Jiyong pulls you in suddenly, placing his head on your shoulder and kissing the back of your neck softly. You run your fingers along his back, tracing down every knob of his spine.
“You look beautiful. Have I told you that yet?” He asks, tone warm, breath ghosting your ear.
“You have. A couple times.” You bring your hand back up to his hair and card through it. You feel Jiyong smile against your ear.
His eyes divert from you just for a moment, scanning the bar for his sister. But when he spots her, he freezes. Dami is leaning over the bar, against her will, with a tall man pressed up against her backside. Her hands are visibly trembling. She could very easily push him off. But she’s frozen, and his hands are way too firm on her waist.
Jiyong tenses, but he doesn’t move. Not yet. Not with you in his arms. He just watches, studying the interaction.
Dami turns to face him, muttering something, her face twisted in discomfort. She looks so small now, cowering against the bar. The man doesn’t retract. He steps closer, his chest basically against hers now. His hands are still on her hips, his thumb brushing dangerously close.
Jiyong digs his nails into your back.
Then, he leans in. The man kisses Dami hard, his hand moving to grab her ass. Dami squirms under him, but he holds her still.
Jiyong lets go of you and marches over. He doesn’t waste a second. Doesn’t think twice. Nothing but pure rage is coursing through his veins. He grabs the man by his hair, clutching a fistfull of dark locks and dragging him away. The bar is too crowded, too loud for anyone to notice.
No one notices when Jiyong pushes open the door to the back alley. No one notices when he drags the man outside, letting the door slowly fall shut behind them. You watch him, not really sure what happened until your eyes track back to Dami, left shaking and a little stunned against the bar. You immediately approach her and place a hand on her arm.
She looks up, her eyes dark and misty. “Y- yeah. I’m fine.”
You give her a minute to collect herself. You take her purse from the barstool next to her, holding onto it for her. You keep a hand on her forearm, offering a comforting squeeze as she sighs.
“We should stop Jiyong. He’s probably kicking that guy’s ass.” She forces a bitter laugh. You nod, taking her hand as you both walk towards the back door of the bar. But as Dami pushes the door out, her expression drops. She stumbles backward, crashing into you.
You stop dead in your tracks.
It takes you a moment to process the sight before you. The alley is not well lit. For a moment, you allow yourself to blame the poor lighting on the sight before you. But reality hits. The smell of blood is strong, a metallic tang on your tongue making you feel nauseous.
Your blurry vision finally focuses, and you take it in. Jiyong is knelt, bent down, deep groaning coming from his throat. And beneath him–
The man who touched Dami. Long dead, his blood pooling at Jiyong’s knees. Jiyong’s mouth is buried in his neck, his nails deep inside the man’s chest.
Dami and you are completely still for about a minute. Your heart is racing, your hands trembling at your side. You actually jump when the door to the bar finally clicks shut behind you.
Dami snaps out of it first. She drops to her knees beside Jiyong and pulls him back. He squirms in her arms, trying to pull away and return to the body, to the blood spilling from the man’s many puncture wounds. But Dami is strong.
“Jiyong stop, please, sweetheart. Please, listen to my voice. Control yourself.” She whispers, right next to his ear.
Jiyong’s movements become weak, defenseless against her grip. Eventually, he collapses into her, blood still dripping from his lips and coating his chin.
“Breathe. Just… please. Calm yourself. It’s okay, I’m here.” Dami soothes, rubbing his back a little too harshly.
You’re still frozen. Your eyes are fixed on the body. Blood.
You feel your breathing quicken, chest tightening, nails digging into your palms. Dami’s voice brings you back to reality.
“Ji, look at me.” She cups his face, forcing his eyes to meet hers. You finally look over to them.
Jiyong is still shaking, but not trying to escape her arms. It’s almost like he’s trying to do the opposite–to bury himself in her and disappear as the reality of what he did hits him.
“Dami…” he breathes, voice hoarse and barely audible.
“I’m here, Ji. Right here.”
“What did I do…” his words are shaky, uneven and broken as tears begin to fall. Dami brushes them away with her thumb, but they’re falling too fast for her to keep up.
“You lost control again, Ji. But it’s okay. I’m here. We’ll… we’ll fix it. We always do.” She offers a smile, but Jiyong doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes divert back to the body, frantic and bright red.
Dami grips his chin and turns his face back to hers. “Stop. Calm down, please. I’m right here.” She continues, but to no avail. His panic attack is full blown now. A soft cry slips from his lips as he clutches at his chest, breathing too heavy to keep up with. For some reason, that snaps you out of your trance.
You drop to your knees in front of Jiyong. “Look at me.”
Your voice immediately causes him to meet your eyes, lips parted and pupils blown. You should be terrified. You should run and never look back. But you don’t. You don’t even consider it. Jiyong slowly sits upright, never looking away from you. You reach out and take his hands in yours.
“Jiyong. Hey,” you squeeze his hands, unfamiliarly warm–coated with blood. “It’s… it’s okay.”
“I killed him.” He phrases it almost like a question, but you all know that it’s not. “I lost control… Dami, I lost control again…”
Dami leans in, but allows you to continue holding him. “I know, hon. It’s okay.”
“No. No, I can’t- I can’t go through this again. I can’t-”
You almost want to ask. Again? But you don’t dare. He can’t handle that right now.
“Jiyong, stop.” Dami reaches up and holds his face again. “It’s okay. You aren’t alone. Everything will be okay.”
Jiyong’s eyes divert to you again. “Y/N…”
“I already know what you’re going to say. It’s okay, Jiyong. Please, just breathe.” You say, ignoring the drop of blood that falls from his face.
Every inch of pride Jiyong had left drains from his body as you pull him into your arms and settle against the brick building behind you. He doesn’t protest. He goes limp against your chest.
A shiver runs down your spine as you watch Dami move. She moves the body with practiced ease. She pulls it further down the alley, where the lights from the city are completely invisible. The only thing left behind is a wide trail of blood leading right where you’re sitting. Jiyong sniffs, shoulders shaking as he cries. Your fingers are in his hair, still and soaked with a thin layer of warm blood.
Dami returns a moment later. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
You shakily nod. Dami crouches and basically picks up her brother, his expression reading dread and pure terror. You follow as Dami guides Jiyong to her car. She places him in the backseat, and he immediately melts into the cushions, unmoving. You climb into the passenger seat, hands fumbling with the seatbelt a little too long. The drive is mostly silent. Dami keeps glancing in the rearview mirror at him. Jiyong is sat up and leaned over with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
“We can talk about this… another time.” She speaks suddenly, and you almost flinch. “I really just need to take him home for tonight.”
You nod. “Y- yeah. Okay.”
Dami eventually pulls into your apartment building’s parking lot. You thank her softly for driving you home, and spend one more glance on Jiyong, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. He can’t. When your apartment door shuts behind you, reality finally sets in.
You replay the night in your mind over and over again until you’re crying too, breathing heavy with a hand over your chest. You can’t seem to pull in a full breath. Your vision blurs, your fingers feel numb. Red stains cover your clothes and shoes. Before you can submit to the floor completely, you pull off your dress and underwear, kick off your heels, and stumble to the bathroom.
You turn the shower to the hottest setting it has and step inside. The water burns your skin, but it doesn’t register. Not even a little bit. The water that pools at your feet is crimson, and no matter how long you let it run, it never seems to turn clear.
You scrub at your skin until it’s pink and raw. Tears fall from your eyes that feel cold in comparison to the scorching shower. You stay in there for longer than you should–until your fingerprints turn pruned and your skin is properly burned. Until the water runs clear.
You get no sleep. Not a minute of it. The scene replays every time you close your eyes, and a fresh wave of panic seeps in. The thing that confuses you, though, is that the hysteria you feel isn’t for yourself. It’s for him. You find yourself wondering what he’s doing. If he’s okay. How he is feeling right now. If he’s also laying in bed, unmoving in total insomnia.
As soon as Jiyong’s front door clicks shut, he collapses. His knees hit the floor with a hard bang and his sobs echo through the foyer. Dami drops before him and pulls him in. Jiyong doesn’t resist. He melts into her arms, audibly crying and shaking as she strokes his back.
“I know, I know. It’s okay. You’re safe now.” She coos, but it really doesn’t reach Jiyong’s ears. He can’t hear anything except for the yelps of his victim. And… your voice.
“Nobody saw. And there weren’t any cameras in the alley. I checked. You won’t get in trouble, Ji.” She offers, but he shakes his head.
“I… I scared her.” His voice trembles, weak and completely broken. Dami’s chest aches.
“You didn’t. She was there, holding you. She knew you weren’t going to hurt her.”
Jiyong doesn’t respond. The two of them stay like that for a while. Dami has no idea what time it is when she finally coaxes him into the shower. She follows, taking a little longer than him, washing her hair four times in total. Dami stays in his room. She allows him his space, but as soon as she tries to leave to her spare bedroom, he asks her to stay. She doesn’t hesitate.
“I thought I had myself under control.” Jiyong finally speaks after about an hour of complete silence. Dami sighs.
“You aren’t a monster, Jiyong.”
Jiyong doesn’t respond, because if he says what is truly on his mind, it will just worry her.
The sun shines unfairly bright through the windows in Jiyong’s house the next morning. Dami is up first, sliding out of bed as softly as possible so as to not wake her brother. Jiyong awakes not long after, finding Dami cooking in his kitchen and a cup of coffee already sitting on the counter, waiting for him. He takes a long sip, sinking into the stool in front of the counter.
Dami offers him a soft smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Morning.”
Dami sighs. “Where do you keep your blood again? My throat is killing me.”
Jiyong almost flinches at the word. “Bottom drawer of the fridge.”
She nods, opening the fridge with a tight grip on the handle. She finds them easily–five bottles of dark liquid sitting sealed in the drawer with the label primate AB+.
The only type of animal blood that resembles human blood. It’s available to vampires anytime–in grocery stores or pharmacies, as if it’s a normal item on a shopping list. Jiyong always keeps his fridge stocked. Dami takes a bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a big sip. She presses her lips together after and slides the bottle across the counter to Jiyong, but he declines.
“I know you’re shaken up, but you need it.” She pries, but Jiyong refuses again with a short wave of his hand. Dami admits defeat and puts the bottle back in its place.
She plates breakfast for both of them, and they eat in silence. She wants to reach out, to squeeze his hand and tell him that it will be okay, that it wasn’t his fault. But she doesn’t.
Instead she lets him wallow, allowing him time to process before she steps in and helps. After eating, Jiyong makes his way to the couch and flicks on his TV. Some news channel is the first thing to pop open.
“Breaking news–a body was found around 8AM this morning in a back alley in Seoul. The man was pronounced dead at the scene and police have confirmed a homicide.” The young news anchor states, expression blank.
Jiyong grimaces. Homicide.
The channel continues. “Vampire fang puncture wounds were found on the neck and chest of the victim and police have begun an investigation-”
Dami is suddenly in front of him switching the channel. “You’re going to drive yourself mad.”
Jiyong just sighs, melting further into the couch. His undereyes are red, skin paler than normal. He runs a hand along his face and then through his hair, tugging at the dark strands just a little.
Dami sits next to him and places a comforting hand on his back. “It’s going to be okay. You aren’t going to get in trouble. There’s no way for them to know.”
Jiyong shakes his head. “But I know, Dami. That’s the problem. I have to live with it now.”
She exhales slow and leans her head on his shoulder. “It’ll get easier. And I’ll be here.”
“Do I have to tell Seunghyun?” Jiyong’s voice sounds small. Childish and almost scared.
“Not if you don’t want to, but you know he would react the same as me.”
“I don’t think I want to. I don’t want to worry him.” His voice breaks on the last word. Dami’s chest tightens.
Jiyong doesn’t answer your calls. Your texts remain unread for days.
You: Missed you at the office today. Are you doing okay?
You: We don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to. I just want to know you’re alright
You: Please answer my calls Jiyong. I’m getting worried.
You: I’m here for you when you’re ready. Just say anything so I know you’re okay.
He didn’t. Not for a whole week.
You went to work and sat in his office alone, spinning in his chair and sighing every time you’d send another text message that you knew you wouldn’t get a response to.
Seunghyun came in on Wednesday. He smiled at you, made small conversation. Said something about Jiyong being sick. Jiyong didn’t tell him, you realize. That surprises you a little.
You knew that the project with Seolleda would be over by the end of next week, You and Jiyong had postponed the release of the product line and advertising for too long. Memories of giggling in his office and planning elaborate ways to be able to continue working together for as long as possible flood back in.
You really don’t want to spend the last week of working at Seolleda without him. So when Friday rolls around, you decide you’ve had enough.
You drive to his house with shaky hands on the wheel, knuckles white and radio way too loud. You sit in your car in his driveway for a little too long. Eventually, you muster up the courage to get out. You’d brought him takeout, as you imagine he hasn’t really been in the mood to cook for himself.
You knock once. Twice. Silence. Then, the door slowly drags open.
Jiyong’s expression changes from exhaustion to surprise, then to dread. He considers closing the door. Locking it tight and running from his problems. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stares at you, the paper takeout back in your hand, the empathetic glint in your eyes.
“I brought food.” You break the silence. Jiyong nods shakily, stepping aside and letting you in. You bring the food to the living room and begin unpacking the small boxes on his coffee table. Jiyong pads across the room and slowly takes the seat next to you on the couch.
You eat in silence for a little while. Your presence is enough to ease Jiyong a little, but he still jumps slightly when you speak.
He nods, but it isn’t genuine.
He definitely has not been okay. But lying is easier.
“You haven’t been answering my calls. I was getting worried.”
Jiyong tenses. “I’m sorry.”
His voice sounds shrill. Soft like a young boy cowering behind his mother at the first sight of danger. You want to take his hand in yours, to pull him flush against your chest and run your fingers through his hair, to press kisses to his icy skin and hold him until he relearns how to breathe. But you don’t.
You keep your eyes on him. “It’s okay.” A soft sigh escapes your lips. “Where’s Dami?”
“At work.” Jiyong doesn’t meet your eyes. He doesn’t think he can without crying.
You nod and continue eating. The silence isn’t awkward so much as it is heavy. Charged.
“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Jiyong says finally.
You can’t resist reaching out for his hand now. You turn to him, crossing your legs on the couch and squeezing his hand tight.
“You don’t have to be sorry.” You brush your thumb across his knuckles, feeling the slight tremor against your palm.
“I’ll end the project early. I drafted an email to your company and proposed that I finish the rest on my own so you can go back-”
“Stop, please. Stop offering me a way out when I didn’t ask for one.” Your tone is gentle, but your words are firm.
Jiyong finally meets your eyes. He searches your expression for any hint of doubt, but he finds nothing but honesty.
“Why?” He manages, choking on a sob.
“Why are you… why are you not scared? I mean… you watched me kill someone. You should run away or call the police. Instead… you showed up to my house with takeout.” His hand goes limp in your grasp, only making you squeeze it tighter. Jiyong expects you to falter at his words. He expects a wave of realization and a hurried excuse for you to leave. Instead, you only smile.
Trust? Me? I must’ve heard her wrong.
You notice the confusion in his gaze. “I mean it. I trust you. And I understand. You… made a mistake. I make mistakes all of the time.”
“Do your mistakes ever lead to murder?” He blurts, immediately regretting it.
Your chest tightens. You stay silent.
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’m just-”
“I know.” You nod. “But I’m not scared of you. Not at all. And I don’t mind if I have to repeat it forever for you to believe me.”
“Don’t say dangerous. Because you aren’t. You wouldn’t hurt me.” You move your hand up to his face. He recoils for a moment, but eventually leans into your touch. “Stop trying to get rid of me. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m not trying to get rid of you. I’m trying to protect you.” His eyes grow misty. You shake your head.
“I don’t need protection. Especially not from you. I-” you pause, considering not saying what you’re going to say. But the look in his eyes almost forces the words from your mouth. “I love you.”
Jiyong’s lips part, his expression reading stunned. “I- you… you do?”
A soft laugh falls from your lips. “Yes, Jiyong, I do. So stop trying to push me away. I’m not leaving.”
You smile and waste no time pulling him in. Jiyong buries his face in the crook of your neck and his arms slip around your waist. You hold him close and eventually slide onto his lap. His grip doesn’t falter for a second, like if he were to let go, you would disappear.
“I’m here. For good. Or at least, I’d like to be.” You whisper against his ear.
“I love you. I love you. I love you.” His breath ghosts your shoulder, repeating the phrase over and over again like a prayer.
You pull back just enough to press your forehead to his. You meet his lips in a soft, gentle kiss, fingers running through his hair and keeping him grounded.
“Everything will be okay. I promise you.” You murmur, and for the first time in a week, Jiyong starts to believe it.
Jiyong’s cold skin doesn’t really register to you anymore. It actually feels nice, a contrast to your warmth. They roam your body so gently, so practised.
You don’t really remember how you ended up on his bed, bodies pressed together, and tongues dancing in your mouth. It isn’t rushed. It’s zen, intimate in a way neither of you have ever experienced.
Jiyong presses you into his pillow, planting kisses on the line of your jaw, then collarbone, chest, stomach, and thighs. Your fingers card through his hair–a silent way of telling him yes, this is okay. Clothes fall to the floor. You don’t seem to notice.
Jiyong connects his tongue with your clit, pressing into your warmth and extracting a soft groan from your lips. He asks you if you’re okay again and again, he whispers apologies and words of love against your skin. When he returns to your eye level, he kisses you like you’re oxygen.
Jiyong aligns his cock with your entrance, meeting your eyes before he proceeds. You give a short nod immediately, and Jiyong exhales as he pushes inside you. He enters you slow, allowing both of you to feel every inch. You moan softly, hands roaming his back as he bottoms out inside you. His name slips off of your lips like a mantra.
“Y/N, oh my…” Jiyong kisses your neck, then the skin behind your ear. He keeps his lips closed, fangs almost piercing his own tongue.
His movements start slow, almost fully pulling out of you before he steadily pushes back inside. Usually, you’d be begging for him to go faster, legs shaking, moaning, bucking your hips upward as you chase your release. But right now, you never want this to end. You let him set his own pace. His temperature keeps you grounded, his dark red eyes meeting yours between kisses. He speeds up, but not by much. His hands are firm at your waist.
“Jagi…” he whimpers against your cheek. You hum in response, unable to form real words. Your legs tremble beneath him as the edge creeps up on you. When you finally unravel, it’s accompanied by soft moans and Jiyong’s hands in your hair. He follows not long after, stilling inside you with his face pressed to your neck. Neither of you move for a long moment. He stays inside you, head against your chest as your fingers trace the curve of his spine. You simply breathe each other in for a little.
When Jiyong pulls out, he does it slowly. He keeps his hands on your waist and his eyes fixed on yours. He takes you in his arms gently, one arm under your knees and the other cradling your head, and carries you to the bathroom.
The shower is warm. He holds you as close as he can, pressing kisses to every inch of your body and still repeating ‘I love you, I love you’, as if he still doesn’t believe that he’s allowed to say it out loud. You let him feel vulnerable. You let him fall into your arms when you return to bed, basically melting into your body with pure mental exhaustion.
Neither of you really speak much for the rest of the night. Dami returns late, finding both of you in Jiyong’s bed, and smiles to herself. Sleep comes easy to both of you for the first time in a week. You’re wedged into his neck, barely able to get a full deep breath because of how close you are. But you don’t care.
You don’t move away. You continue tracing circles on his bicep until he’s lightly snoring with his thumb still absentmindedly brushing against the small of your back.
“I love you, Jiyong.” You whisper one last time before sleep claims you.
The final week leading up to the product launch finally lets you breathe again. Jiyong is still fairly quiet, but he’s better. Neither of you talk about that night in the alley again.
It took a lot of reassurance and conversations that Jiyong really didn’t want to have for him to finally believe that you trust him. You held him close when he woke up from nightmares, shaking and apologizing way too much. You take his hand under the desk when you see him zoning out.
Jiyong is still in shock. He can’t quite comprehend why you are still here. It doesn’t fully make sense to him, but he decided to not question it anymore. He doesn’t want this to end, ever.
On that Friday, after a very long day, Jiyong turns to you on the drive home.
“We should go away.” He says.
“Go away? Like a vacation?” You ask, and he nods.
“I used to rent this villa on Jeju island all of the time. I’d like to take you. As a celebration of sorts, I guess. Or maybe just an escape.”
You beam. “I’d love that.”
He smiles. “Good. I’ll book the flights tonight.”
The stars are so much brighter here. That’s the first thing you notice as you and Jiyong walk along the beach after dinner. His fingers are intertwined with yours, shirt half unbuttoned and hair still damp from the ocean.
“Y/N, look.” He lets go of your hand and pulls out his phone, pointing the camera at you.
You giggle. “What are you doing?”
“You look beautiful under the moonlight. I want to savour it.” He snaps multiple photos then scrolls through them in his camera roll with a boyish smile. He then shoves his phone back into his pocket and runs at you full speed, picking you up with ease and spinning you around.
“Ji!” You laugh, kissing him between breaths. He puts you down briefly only to turn around and crouch over, motioning for you to get on his back.
You jump up and he catches you. You rest your chin on his shoulder and allow him to carry you across the beach, giggling about nothing and holding on tighter when he pretends to drop you. Your white dress flows in the warm breeze, your laughter sweet and accompanied by the soft sound of crashing waves.
When you arrive back at the villa, his lips are on yours. You’re still laughing between kisses as you jump into his arms and wrap your legs around his waist. But just as you do, Jiyong stumbles.
You pull back from the kiss and meet his eyes. You rip yourself from his grasp and he actually has to hold onto the wall to not pass out.
“Are you okay?” You ask, and Jiyong groans.
“I, uhm, yeah. A little dizzy.”
“I can see that.” You place a hand on his back.
He sighs. “I- I need blood.”
You nod. It’s normal to you at this point. “Did you bring any?”
You smack his arm. “That wasn’t very smart.”
“Fuck.” He runs a hand along his face. “If I don’t get any soon I’m going to faint.”
You think for a moment. You can see sweat beads forming on his forehead, skin paler than normal. Then, an idea.
“You can bite me.” You propose, and Jiyong looks at you like you’d just asked him to jump out of the window.
“Are you joking?” He almost laughs.
You shrug. “It’s possible. To bite me without… turning me, or whatever. Just take a little to drink then stop.”
Jiyong actually considers it for a moment. That is telling of how desperate he is.
“No, Y/N. I’m not doing that.”
“Please don’t be difficult. You need blood. I have lots of it. And I trust you.” You say, guiding him to the couch and helping him sit down.
“I could hurt you.” His voice is small now.
“Stop. You won’t. Just do it.” You brush your hair off of your shoulder, exposing your neck.
Jiyong feels his fangs ache. He sighs. “You’ll push me off?”
“I won’t need to. Come on. You look like a sick Victorian child.”
Jiyong hesitates, but nods. He really doesn’t want to do this, but he’s really about to pass out. He presses a soft kiss to your neck first, and you run your fingers through his hair. He opens his mouth slowly. His fangs touch your skin, cold and sharp. You feel him hesitate.
“Jiyong, it’s okay. Go ahead.”
Another pause, then you feel it. It’s like a needle, just barely breaking your skin, enough for you to bleed into his mouth. He drinks with his hands in yours, sweaty but still ice cold.
He makes a small noise, something soaked in relief. He takes just enough to satisfy his craving, then pulls back with surprising ease. His tongue is still red and his eyes are squinted shut.
You smile. “See? I knew you’d be fine.”
Something close to pride washes over Jiyong. He’s shocked that he had no trouble pulling away. You pull him in to lay on your chest.
He nods. “Yeah. Thank you.”
“Perks of dating a human.” You kiss his forehead gently.
A bout of silence settles–you simply running your fingers through his hair and gazing out the window. Then, something pops into the back of your mind.
“Can I ask you something?” You look down at Jiyong–now laying with his head on your lap–and smile.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. But I’m just curious.”
That scares him a little bit, but he nods anyway.
“When we were in the alley that night, you said something that I’ve been wondering about.”
Jiyong presses his lips together. You stroke his cheek with your thumb. “You said that you lost control again.”
His heart stops. He knew this story would eventually come up, but he still isn’t really prepared for it. But you deserve to know.
“It happened… once before. Years and years ago.” He says with a heavy sigh.
“No, it’s okay.” Jiyong sits up and leans back into the couch. You get comfortable on his chest. “It happened about a week after I had first turned. Dami was surprisingly good at controlling her urges so she would always be the one to go out when we needed anything.”
You nod against him, absorbing every word.
“My house was pretty rural, so we didn’t usually see anyone if we didn’t go into town. But one day, we did.”
He looks off into the distance.
“A woman walked by my house. I smelled her almost 10 minutes before we could see her. And Seunghyun was in the shower when she finally came into view. And I couldn’t stop myself.”
His fingers run lines down your back, as if to try and ground himself.
“Dami came home only a few minutes later, but it was too late. Dami had to pull me off and hit me, like, 3 times to get me to snap out of it. I don’t think I left my house for two months after that.”
You watch him as he talks. He finally meets your eyes.
“I’m really pathetic, aren’t I?”
A soft smile tugs at your mouth. “Not at all, Ji.”
He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. “I don’t deserve you.”
He pulls you up onto his lap and into a hug. You melt into it.
“Thank you for telling me.” You kiss his cheek lightly.
“You deserve to know that kind of stuff. Since you’re so adamant on trusting me.”
You hum in response, burrowing into his neck. “I’m going to miss working with you.”
“Me too.” Jiyong agrees. “Wait, I have an idea.”
Jiyong smiles. “How much do you make at your other company?”
You furrow your brow. “Why?”
“How would you like to make double?”
You scoff. “What are you talking about?”
“Come work for Seolleda. I’ve been wanting to hire our own marketing manager. I hate having to work with outside companies for advertising.” He beams, suddenly very excited about this idea.
Your eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I am. Working together permanently aside, you’re very good at what you do.” Jiyong kisses you quickly, still grinning and excited.
“Yes. Yes, I’d love to. Oh my god, Jiyong. This is actually my dream job.” You hug him again, giggling.
“Good. You can start next week when we get back. I’ll set up a meeting with your old boss.” He says, smiling against your cheek.
The rest of the trip is perfect. You and Jiyong go to dinner every night and spend the day doing activities of your choosing. By the end of the trip, you’ve forced him to try diving, parasailing, at least six different drinking games, and countless positions in bed. When you finally return to Seoul, it’s bittersweet.
That meeting with your old boss takes place on the following Monday. It’s mostly him speaking to Jiyong, but you did have to be present for legal reasons.
The next day, Jiyong already has an office cleared out for you with seemingly brand new furniture. He spends the day helping you decorate and running through your new contract with his company.
“Okay, so I know this may seem like a lot to take on right away. But if you ever need anything, please ask me or Seunghyun. And if it really is too much, I can hire you an assistant or two.” Jiyong says, watching as you read through the document.
“It’s not too much, Ji. I’m really grateful for all of this.” You sign your name at the bottom without hesitation. Jiyong smiles.
“I’m just glad to have you here.”
You furrow a brow teasingly. “I thought this was about my talent and work ethic?”
“Oh, right. Of course.” He scoffs, reaching for your hand over your new desk.
It’s perfect. Everything is perfect. And he really wasn’t kidding about the pay. You work mostly on commission now, and since Seolleda’s success only skyrocketed after the new product line, every paycheck that comes in makes you audibly gasp.
After working at Seolleda for almost a month, Jiyong waltzes into your office and plants a kiss on your head. He sits at the chair opposite your desk with a grin on his face.
“What is that smile for?” You lean your chin in your palm and stare at him.
“How do you feel about parties?” He asks, and you scoff.
“I’m 27 with a degree in graphic design. How do you think I feel about parties, Jiyong?”
He laughs, nodding. “Wonderful. I have a proposition for you.”
“Proposition. Sometimes you talk like you’re from the 1800’s.”
“Well, that’s probably because I am.”
You huff a laugh, throwing a pen at him. “What’s your proposition?”
“There’s a party tonight Seunghyun and I were invited to tonight. It’ll just be a bunch of other business owners, but it’s an open bar. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”
“You had me at open bar.” You smile, and Jiyong nods, satisfied.
“Good. I should warn you, though, it’ll be mostly vampires. If that’s too much for you, you don’t have to come.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll just stick with you.” You say.
“Sounds good to me. I’ll pick you up at 8.” He stands and kisses you again before retreating to his office.
Just as you’re finishing your makeup, Jiyong texts you that he’s waiting downstairs. You meet him at the door and as soon as you’re in his car, you connect your phone to his speakers and play your music.
“You look pretty, darling.” He smiles as he pulls out of the parking lot.
“Thank you.” You kiss him on the cheek and place a hand on his thigh.
You arrive at the venue–a fancy bar that’s been completely rented out by the host. Jiyong takes your hand as you enter. A taller man suddenly pats Jiyong on the back, startling you both.
“Jiyong! Great to see you, man.” He shakes Jiyong’s hand tightly. A familiar smile appears on Jiyong’s face.
“Ah, Jackson. You too, hyung.” He says, then gestures toward you. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Jackson Wang.”
You offer a small bow. “Nice to meet you.”
“You as well. Go get yourselves drinks and find me later. The bar's open to everyone.” Jackson grins before disappearing back into the crowd.
“Is that actually Jackson Wang? Why didn’t you tell me Jackson Wang was hosting this?” You whisper-yell as you and Jiyong make your way to the bar.
“What’s wrong with him?” Jiyong laughs.
You scoff. “He’s only, like, the richest guy in the country. If I had known I would’ve worn my expensive heels.”
“Ah, he’s harmless. Get used to his parties. He hosts a lot of them.”
Jiyong orders for both of you and before you know it, you’re looped around his arm and standing in a group of his friends. Seunghyun is on Jiyong’s other side, laughing about something you didn’t hear. Jiyong’s laughing too, but as soon as his gaze diverts from Seunghyun, his expression drops. You notice right away.
He groans. “Yeah, it’s fine. Someone I do not feel like interacting with just walked in.”
You follow his eyes and immediately find who he’s looking at. “Who is that?”
“Seungri. Multi-millionaire and one of my least favourite people.”
You huff a laugh. “Why? What did he do?”
“What didn’t he do?” Jiyong rolls his eyes. “He used to work for me, a long time ago. Completely fucked us over and disappeared for 10 years. Then popped back up about 2 years ago with his own company and a trust fund. He’s very shady and a complete scum to work with.”
“Jesus. Let’s steer clear then.”
And you do, for the most part. Every time Seungri finds himself in your vicinity, you and Jiyong move away and find a new group to mingle with. It’s not until later in the night when it becomes a problem.
Jiyong leans down and kisses your cheek. “Washroom. I’ll be right back. Would you mind getting me another drink?”
“No problem.” You smile and head over to the bar as Jiyong walks away.
You’re waiting for the bartender to pour his whisky when you feel a hand on your shoulder. “Ah, Jiyong, just a moment-”
You cut yourself off when you turn around.
“What? Disappointed?” He spits, smiling. You shrug his hand off your shoulder and turn back around, trying to ignore him. But of course, he doesn’t give up.
“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing at this bar all alone?” Seungri slides into the stool next to you.
“Waiting for my boyfriend.” You don’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him.
“Shame. You’re way too pretty for that asshole.” He laughs at himself. You stay silent. He doesn’t like that.
“And you’re human,” he points out, smirking, “totally out of his league.”
“Do you mind?” You get fed up and finally look at him.
“Not at all.” He takes your hand in his. You try to escape from his grasp, but he’s too strong.
Where the fuck is Jiyong?
“Come with me, sweetheart. Before your boyfriend can steal you away from me.” Seungri purrs way too close to your face.
“Please leave me alone.” You basically beg, starting to get nervous. His grip on your hand is way too tight.
Before you can protest, Seungri drags you by your hand into a small room on the side of the bar. He closes the door behind him. You try to yell, but his hand covers your mouth.
“You can’t be older than 30, right? I haven’t tasted blood that young in a long time…” he looks you up and down. You’re stunned. You can’t move. You can’t speak. You can barely breathe.
You have no idea how long he stares at you for, but you suddenly snap out of your daze when Seungri sinks his fangs into your neck.
It isn’t gentle like when Jiyong did it. It’s aggressive. Hungry.
You try and yell out again, pain jolting through your body, but his hand covers your mouth again. His teeth sink deeper and blood begins to gush down your body, pooling at your feet. He doesn’t let up. Not once.
Jiyong returns to find you missing. He spots Seunghyun close by and approaches him instead.
“Hey, have you seen Y/N? I lost her.”
Seunghyun laughs. “How did you manage to do that?”
“Shut up.” Jiyong smacks his arm.
“No, I haven’t seen her in a bit actually. Sorry hyung.” Seunghyun turns back to the group he was chatting with.
Jiyong scans the crowd, looking for your face, but doesn’t find it. He paces around the venue, not having any luck, until-
The smell of blood hits him like a truck when he walks by a door at the back of the bar. The one leading to a private room used for dinner parties. He backtracks until he’s directly in front of it. Suddenly, something tightens in his chest. He needs to open the door.
He pushes it open slowly, and-
You're pinned against the wall, desperately clawing at Seungri’s back but to no avail. Your movements of defense are weak. The light is draining from your eyes. Your own blood is dripping to the floor, staining your shoes.
Jiyong moves fast. He’s yelling for help and yelling at Seungri as his hands connect with the shorter man, pulling him off and sending him straight backward into the opposite wall of the room. You immediately fall to the floor, shaky hands coming up to the open wound on your neck to try and stop the bleeding, but nothing works.
Jiyong drops down right in front of you. “Y/N? Baby? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I- I’m here. Look at me. You’re gonna be okay.”
His words don’t register. Your vision blurs, your breathing coming in quick and short waves. Your head is pounding. Jiyong replaces your hands with his, but again, it doesn’t work. You try to talk, try to say anything, but it comes out jagged and strained.
“Don’t try to talk. I’m here, okay? You’re… you’re gonna be okay.” Jiyong’s voice breaks, tears falling from his eyes as your blood spurts between his fingers. Other people crowd into the room. A few call 911. Some just gasp and watch from afar. Seunghyun pushes past the crowd and drops to his knees next to Jiyong.
“Ji, oh my… I’m so sorry, I didn’t see her leave, I-”
“Seunghyun, please shut up and help me.” He orders, and Seunghyun immediately acts. His hands cover Jiyong’s, but again, nothing helps.
You’re losing way too much blood way too fast.
“J-Ji…” you manage, and Jiyong’s eyes immediately meet yours.
“I’m here, my love. It’s okay.” He says, but he doesn’t fully believe it.
“Jiyong…” Seunghyun slowly lets his hands drop. He knows what’s coming.
“What are you doing? She’s bleeding out!” Jiyong is yelling now.
“She isn’t going to make it like this.” Seunghyun’s tone is deadpan. It comes through clear in your mind. You know he’s right.
“Jiyong.” You use most of your remaining strength to say his name as clearly as possible.
He holds his breath. You know you’re going to die if he keeps this up. So you say the only thing you can think of.
“B… bite me.” You mutter, falling limp in his arms.
Jiyong scrambles to keep you upright while also still trying to hold pressure on your wound. “Wh- what did she say? Did she ask me to bite her?” He turns to Seunghyun, who’s giving him a look of dread.
“Yeah. She did.” He says.
“No. No, I can’t, she’s… she’s so young, she can’t… she can’t-”
“Jiyong.” Seunghyun’s tone is completely firm. “She’s going to die.”
“Stop! No, please, someone call an ambulance, we can make it!”
“On the phone with them now, but they won’t be here in time.” Jackson calls from behind Jiyong.
“Tell them to fucking hurry, then!” Jiyong yells, but he knows there isn’t any way.
“Jiyong.” Seunghyun puts a hand on his shoulder. “If you don’t want her to bleed out, you have to bite her. She’s going to die if you don’t.”
“No, Seunghyun! She- she doesn’t deserve that! She didn’t do anything-”
“Neither did we, Jiyong!” Seunghyun yells now too, harsher than he means to. But it works. “At least this is justified! Bite her now, or I will.”
Jiyong fails to hold back his sobs now. He turns his gaze back to you.
He knows what he has to do.
You’re seconds away from death, and help wouldn’t arrive in time.
You asked him to bite you.
“Jiyong. Now. She’s losing too much blood.” Seunghyun keeps a hand on his shoulder. Jiyong chokes on a sob as he leans into you.
“I’m so sorry, my love. I have no choice…” he whispers as his fangs connect with the opposite side of your neck. He pushes them deeper until he hits a vein. Venom releases, running its way through your veins and straight back to your heart.
Your eyes flutter open, and you’re immediately thirsty. You’re on your feet before you can even gather in your surroundings.
You stumble through the hallway of Jiyong’s house and straight to the kitchen.
Everything is heightened.
Your vision is so clear it starts to give you a headache.
Your fingertips tingle at every collision with the wall.
You hear every sound, every beat of your heart.
And you’re so fucking thirsty.
Jiyong spots you immediately from his spot on the couch. He runs to your side, sliding an arm around your waist and steadying you.
“Hey, hey, Y/N, calm down.”
“Ji… I- I need water.” You groan, his touch almost burning sensitive.
“You need blood, baby. Come here.” He guides you to the fridge.
“B- blood…?” The word almost makes you salivate.
He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a glass bottle filled to the brim with dark, crimson blood. You don’t even care what it is right now, you feel so thirsty that you could pass out.
You take multiple long sips from the bottle, and the relief is immediate. The intoxicating kind. You finally stop, breathing heavy.
“You okay now?” Jiyong asks, rubbing your sides. You shakily nod. Memories start to rush in when you finally gather yourself. You look down at your hands. Then back to Jiyong.
“I know, baby. I know it’s a lot.” He pulls you in flush against his chest.
“Jiyong, what happened after I passed out…?”
He sighs as his fingers card through your hair. “Come sit.”
He guides you to the couch, hand on the small of your back as you sit next to him.
“Please just say it. I won’t… just say it.” You beg, and Jiyong nods.
He hesitates a moment, then, “I had to bite you. I had to turn you.”
You let out a shaky breath. You nod. “And if you didn’t, I would’ve died. Right?”
He nods. “You almost did.”
A shiver runs down your spine.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t have any choice, I-”
You cut him off with a tight hug. You melt into his arms, burying your face in his neck. He holds you close, rubbing your back.
“It’s okay, Jiyong.” You whisper eventually.
He shudders, a sob catching in his throat. “I love you. I love you so much. I wish I could’ve done something else to save you-”
“Stop, please. It’s okay.” You sit up and face him. “I love you too, Jiyong.”
It takes you a while, but you eventually adjust.
Jiyong teaches you the tricks he’s acquired over the years. He keeps you close, not letting you out of his sight for weeks after that night. You have to relearn almost everything, but it’s made so much easier with Jiyong at your side.
He continued to apologize constantly for weeks, but after many long conversations about how you’d rather be a vampire than dead, he finally started to accept it. Telling your friends was the hardest part. Chaerin yelled. Bom and Dara almost left halfway through dinner. Minzy started crying. But after explaining what actually happened, they started to understand. You had told them that you would get it if they couldn’t hang around you anymore, but to your surprise, at the end of the night, you were all making jokes together again.
And after a long time of adjusting, you’re happy.
You work as the head of marketing and product design at Seolleda now. Jiyong, Seunghyun, and Dami quickly became Jiyong, Seunghyun, Dami, and you.
Sometimes, you still lay awake in bed next to Jiyong wondering what it would be like if that night hadn’t happened. If you were still human.
But every time you look at Jiyong, sound asleep with his pinky wrapped around yours under the blanket, you’re reminded why living forever isn’t going to be so bad.
