Kim Namjoon Oneshots

One Bite

You used to think your biggest fear was dying early. Getting typhoid or cholera, anything remotely deadly that would leave your family grieving.

What a surprise when that fear was ripped away from you. One night, of you unaccompanied, was all it took for a cursed man with fangs to rip the freedom of dying away from you. 200 years had passed and that night was still fresh in your mind, along with the repulsion to physical contact and the insatiable hunger for blood.

While the thought of immortality seemed like a gift, your inheritance of it proved that thought wrong. Sure you didn't have to worry about dying young, although eternal life didn't take away the possibility of dying necessarily, but watching your friends and family die while you never aged was a curse in itself. But with your relatives dying off, a new fear was unlocked–being forgotten. Of course, the isolation you put yourself in didn't help. You were so scared that being around humans would tempt the inner monster to reveal itself.

As 200 years passed, you learned to control your hunger and hiding the bodies with it. You were smart, careful and you had healed as much as you could through therapy– as soon as that became a thing.

You were somewhat of a faceless legend. No one knew who gave your victims those bite marks, who slinked around during the night, grandly caped, with piercing red eyes. Which was ridiculous. Firstly, you had left capes back in the late 1800s, and with your self-control incredibly trained, you enjoyed many a stroll during the day, despite their fairytale lore surrounding your kind. The names they chose to call you amused you too. Vampire. Demon. Bloodsucker. Dracula–and of course they thought you were male–thanks to the patriarchy. Around this time, you were enjoying less walks around the local town as a mob had become rampant spouting anti-vampire propaganda. You were well aware of these people, they had been around long enough for you to recite their tosh by memory. They wouldn't usually bother you, but lately they were becoming angrier, violent, and you didn't know why.

In the dead of night, your silence was disturbed by a loud clang that echoed. Who did you have to scare off now? You had lived for years in this mansion under the guise of it being abandoned. But, oftentimes some overconfident idiots would break-in to explore or dare each other. It didn't matter, each time it would end with them screaming and running away. You sighed, putting down the erotic novel you might have been enjoying, and rose from the armchair, making your way out of your candlelit library. The male voices became clearer the closer you got to the foyer, brave of them to enter through the front door, their irritating timbres bringing out the worst in you. Entering the hall silently, you resided in the shadows until they noticed. There were three of them, two messing around while the other appeared seemingly heartbroken over your potted plants that had seen better days. Soon you hear a gasp, one of the two others now sickeningly pale, eyes wide, signalling the other two to look your way.

"Leave," you growled.

Two of the idiots fumbled over their feet towards the door leaving it open in their wake. "Namjoon let's go!" their voices echoed from outside.

The moonlight leaked in, falling onto Namjoon's petrified face–he wasn't leaving. Fine, you thought as you ventured out from the shadows, I'm in need of a feed.

"I said. Get. Out." You punctuated the words as you approached him, closer and closer until his back was pressed against a wall, his plump lips formed into a cute pout–you wouldn't mind biting those lips.

"What's your name?" His question knocked you off kilter.

In what threatening situation would someone ask something like that. You stared, bewildered, into his dark eyes before frowning. "I'm not. answering your questions, get–"