Back here finally with a one-shot. It’s a fanfic centering a character from a kpop group named BTS. Hence why the names are Korean here. Victorian era setting. My OC is here. Eh, that’s about it. For those who do know this guy, please imagine him in BTS’s “Blood Sweat and Tears” look.
#bts #bloodsweatandtears #AU
A thick forest of oak trees guarded the stony castle in the middle of nowhere. The stones had long since lost their once silvery color, now reduced to a shade between grey and black. The grand iron gates of the castle had been reduced to a rusty, creaking mess almost on the verge of falling apart.
Thick moss and poison ivy grew around the castle walls, some parts of the castle almost representing a tree house. Overgrown grass covered the large courtyard filled with insects and whatnot. Lights had virtually been nonexistent inside the castle for more than a century.
‘Don’t venture into the woods,’ the villagers said.
‘Don’t try to find the ancient castle,’ they said.
Min Yoongi laughed dryly, tired eyes scanning over the pages of the book in his arms; the binding was torn and the pages were falling apart.
Well, it was a century old after all.
He closed the book without any disregard for its condition not bothering to pick up the loose pages that had scattered to the wooden floor.
What did it matter, anyway?
There was no one to scold him.
He spared a second to reminisce the last time he had been reprimanded.
That was roughly about three centuries ago.
He glanced around the room.
Silk curtains once the color of soft cream had turned grey and were torn, some missing completely while the rest somehow were still hanging. The walls now had visible cracks on them. The wooden floor creaked whenever he walked, as if it was ready to give away at a moment’s notice. The paintings on the walls were long since disfigured, now just a blur of faded dry paint.
Dragging himself up to a standing position from the couch, the raven head staggered to the miraculously functioning mirror on the wall – albeit with dark fringes here and there.
He stared at his reflection.
Messy raven hair, an ironed, creaseless white shirt, a pair of black pants, a black and silver blazer and black polished shoes – all cladding a pale young man who stared back at him.
He smirked, shaking his head.
After a century later and the only thing that had changed was his pale skin that had turned just a bit more paler.
His hand roamed across his features, fingering the sharp canines in his mouth to his sharp jaw line down to where his beating heart should have been.
Only silence engulfed him.
Of course it wasn’t there. Who was he kidding?
His dark eyes shone a bright shade of scarlet.
Vampires didn’t have hearts.
And he didn’t pine for one either.
What he pined for though, was something completely different.
Completely irrational yet, understandable.
Hot, human blood.
He swallowed thickly.
Except, in the span of a century – of one hundred boring years – he had not found one human, one female who he deemed the slightest bits of interesting.
Not a single woman that had his fangs tingling with a burning sensation.
Naturally, he had just about given up on finding someone.
Min Yoongi was convinced that there was no bride out there for him.
So, you can imagine his surprise when his heightened hearing allowed him to hear the faintest traces of rapid footsteps across the forest floor and ragged breaths.
The faint smell of violets wafted to his nose.
His eyebrows rose.
Probably another village woman out to kill herself; nothing new.
Except, the stench of violets was getting closer and closer and that made things irritating because the last thing the vampire wanted was his sanctuary being discovered by some stupid human – woman or not – and then having the village people come and attempt to burn his home down.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he opened one of the barely hanging windows and rolled his eyes at the cringing sound that emitted from it.
With one last glance at his room, the vampire jumped and disappeared.
When he ventured into the forest, a few new smells had appeared – the stenches of a few men.
Yoongi paused in thought.
He already had an idea as to what was happening.
Concentrating on the sound of the footsteps, he decided to go and take a look himself.
Sure enough, from his stance on one of the high branches of the oak trees, he spotted a cloaked figure – the woman, surely – running at top-speed while a group of rugged, nasty looking men chased her, leers across their faces.
Disgusting, Yoongi idly thought.
Should he save the woman?
He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
Well, it had been a total of seven days since he had his last meal and these were just easy pickings, these men so, why not?
And so, he did just that.
The manly cheers had faded into silence, their bodies lay scattered on the forest floor as Yoongi licked at his blood-stained fingers with mild interest; quite disgusting if he said so himself, but hey, at least these thickheads would keep him filled for at least three weeks now.
Out of the corners of his eyes, he noticed the cloaked woman standing a few feet from him and the bodies and immediately sensed her fear.
Ah, this is where things usually became messy.
Probably one of the reasons he hated helping humans.
Turning around, he attempted to raise his hands into the human’s ‘surrender’ position but instead watched the woman take a few rapid steps backwards before her legs tripped over an overgrown oak root and she fell, the string of the cloak around her neck snapping open causing her cloak to fall off of her and the vampire’s eyes widened in the moonlight.
Silky, long tresses of blonde hair cascaded down her head to her waist as if it were bands of white gold. A simple white dress clung to her body accentuating her slim figure and curves, the fall backwards revealing her slender legs up to her knees. Eyes as dark as hot chocolate concentrated with fear and shock stared back at his scarlet ones as her lean arms held her up from completely falling against the forest floor. Trembling pink lips were parted in shock.
Yoongi’s eyes scanned every detail on her; from her white gold like hair to her slender figure to her piercing eyes to her soft lips.
The moonlight made her an almost ethereal being – like an angel from heaven.
A buzzing tingle from his fangs jolted him out of his trance and he felt his throat burn.
He watched as the woman tried to gather herself, gripping the black cloak tightly in fear.
Suddenly, her attention turned to something behind him and he saw her lips move but the ringing in his head cancelled out her voice as he absentmindedly gripped the thing behind him without sparing a look back.
Ah, it was one of the men.
Odd, he was convinced he had slit their throats for good measure.
His skills were probably getting rusty.
With a snap, the man’s neck crumpled in his fist and he watched as the woman gasped, her hands coming to cover her mouth in disgust and fear.
Throwing the man away, he took a few steps in front of the shaken woman, his eyes never moving from hers.
It was probably utter undiluted fear that kept the woman from running or screaming when he was finally looming over her – the vampire idly remembered reading about it from a human psychology book.
Her smell almost made him nauseous.
It was intoxicating.
Never averting his gaze, he crouched on one knee in front of her; his bloodied fingers traced her dress in a languid manner, the blood staining the white fabric.
He could hear her heart rattling within her ribcage; the sound was strangely soothing.
His fingers brushed across her collarbone – soft, soft, soft skin – and he could feel his lips trembling when his thumb brushed the nape of her neck.
After an entire century….
His fingers ghosted over her chin and then finally above, dyeing her soft, plump – kissable, his mind supplied – lips in hot, red blood.
He removed his hand to admire his work and licked his lips, a smirk breaking across his face, his fangs glinting in the moonlight.
The fear in the woman’s eyes increased ten-fold and her heart raced spasmodically.
Lifting one of her violet scented tresses, he pressed it to his lips.
“My bride,” his voice was meant for her ears only.