|=|Thirsty And Proud|=|NamGi|=|
|=|Vampire|=|

°•●•°

This plays back in the time where Japan was in WWII. Korean men were taken to become military soldiers for the Japanese army. Korean women taken to be in comfort stations (a place where Japanese soldiers have sex with the women) but I won't write the smut since thqt's not what this is about.

This is nothing against the Japanese readers or Japanese people in general!

I was in history class and this is our subject now and I thought it was interesting to see and then watched an interview of someone who used to be a "comfort woman"

The video of the interview is on top.

In this story, Yoongi is taller than Namjoon. I know shocking.

°•●•°

Namjoon looks to the ground as he's told. He flinches when the whip strikes his naked back, scarred and bleeding from many other beatings.

He bites his lip and stays quiet. No matter how many times he endures it, he can never get used to the scars, brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

Men in uniform walk by. Some look at Namjoon with pity, others with amusement, some even with sadness. As if they feel bad for him.

Why would they?

Namjoon could have had a life close to theirs if he had listened. But his stupid self had to shout and stand up for himself.

He can feel his warm blood trickle down his back in soft, thick drops, staining his bruised skin.

His body is dirty. Covered in dust, dried mud, blood and scars, blue spots and red marks from where he has been hit.

Thanks to his own disobedience, he gets to listen to the crying women in the comfort stations.

He's not allowed to stay in his dusty dorm. So he sits and waits. After every ten soldiers he's supposed to come in and clean a bit of the left over stuff.

Condoms or left lubricant or blood on the sheets. Sometimes when he had gotten the money for it, he'd bring the girls a bit of bread to eat to regain their strength, or painkillers to feel better.

He's done it in secret many times, thankfully not having been caught.

The rooms weren't closed off at all. From outside of the room you could see people having sex. You could hear them crying, sometimes you could even see a condom being rudely dropped.

Namjoon silently curses at those who do that. Just because he is a man they think he has no trouble picking up a condom, but it's disgusting. Even for a man.

He'd see girls come in for their shifts and give them a bit of bread with water to prepare them for a horrible day or night ahead.

Only from eleven in the evening it was dead silent.

Dinner time had been, and now it was free time for the soldiers.

Comfort women who just got off couldn't even walk properly, some were still bleeding so heavily that Namjoon couldn't like to see them like that.

So now he brings a towel and whenever they bleed too much to leave trails, he politely asks them to straighten up so he can clean the bits of blood off their legs, and when asked to, their thighs.

Namjoon doesn't like to do it. He doesn't like to watch it. He had busy days. He must learn Japanese from the country, as do the others from other countries. He must have a shift from five in the morning till twelve in the evening, cleaning up after eleven.

Cleaning up meant a lot in an hour. There were sixty comfort rooms in the building he cleaned. That meant washing sixty sheets by hand, cleaning up every room of filth, get it smelling like something other than sex, cleaning the halls, seats, and even the sets of bathrobes and toys that hung there.

It was all disgusting and gross.

Tonight was nothing else.

With a sigh, he waves goodbye to the last girl who limps back to the dorms. He's done this for three years now. He wished he was numb to the smell.

But every room reeks of sex, puke, blood, and a lot more disgusting things.

With a deep sigh, Namjoon grabs the can he uses to pick things up. He didn't get any gloves, so his hands would usually get dirty. He also never got the time to shower.

His back, his arms, his stomach, his legs. Every part of him is beaten. But Namjoon has never learned.

There is a comfort girl he likes to talk to sometimes. She's young. Too young. Underage but the Japanese have no shame.

A sixteen-year-old girl, who has been crying with him since day one. Who he's been protecting since day one.

Namjoon is able to protect her, unlike the others. This girl is incredibly small and thin. Underweight, probably, with big eyes always full of tears and lengthy hair in knots.

The poor thing was worried. She cried to him that her family told her she was going to work in a factory, and Namjoon could only hug her and cuddle her to sleep.

When she did fall asleep, he took it upon himself to carry her to her dorm, where her two roommates took her over and thanked him.

The first weeks they wanted to pay him back with deeds, but those deeds weren't neccessary to Namjoon. He knew why they did it though. Why they wanted to do it. That way of payment is the only way they know.

Namjoon opens the sliding doors to the first room and almost pukes at the sight. Third time that night.

Blood is tainted along the walls and the floor, the bed covered in stains of seed and blood, toys broken in half and the trashcan in the corner full of lubricant.

That's when Namjoon widens his eyes. It wasn't a must, to do lubricant, but doing without hurt these poor girls even more.

The sight of it makes Namjoon growl in anger. He quickly takes the can and sets every bottle that can be used in their place.

If you can use it, use it.

With a time limit of five minutes that he's given himself, he rushes to do four rooms at once.

The cans at once, the sheets in pairs of six, cleaning the rooms, spraying it, soaping the walls and floor before mopping it and swiping brooms everywhere.

It's tiring.

Minutes pass. An hour passes. Namjoon has a maximum time shift till twelve am, but he never leaves without every last bit cleaned. If they find one spot of dirt, he gets beaten.

Huffing as he takes the second final round of sheets to the soap, he hears the entrance door slide open.

He looks up from over the pile in his arms.

His eyes land on a soldier in uniform. He's unarmed with his hands in his pockets and an unamused look in his eyes. He eyes the room,when he lifts his head slightly and snaps his head towards the approaching man.

Namjoon drops the sheets in soap and turns to the soldier, bowing slightly before talking in a practiced Japanese.

"The comfort station is closed at this hour, sir."

"I know." He replies bluntly. "I thought you should have been gone already? Chief Takayama told me you went off shift at twelve and it's one now."

Namjoon looks down at his feet. "My apologies. I need to finish cleaning. I stay a bit later due to... filth being left around."

"I can still smell blood."

Nodding, Namjoon sits down at the barrel of soap and grabs the scrubber. "If I may ask, what does a soldier need at this hour in a closed comfort station?"

The soldier's lips curl up just slightly before he drops his head a bit to the side. He clicks with his tongue before answering in Korean.

"You don't have to pretend to be formal. It's boring in here anyway."

Namjoon looks up at him with big eyes. "Talking any language other than Japanese will get you killed."

The soldier walks closer with big steps before he crouches down to meet Namjoon's eyes.

He scoffs and smirks. "Do I care?" He says again, in Korean, ignoring Namjoon's Japanese.

"S-sir--"

"Quit it." The soldier growls. "Is no one else here besides you?"

Namjoon blinks at him. "Should there be someone else then?"

The soldier mutters curses under his breath before the door slides open again.

In walks the young fourteen year old girl, who trembles on her feet. Her eyes light up when she sees Namjoon still in and she rushes towards him to hug, when she also notices the soldier glaring at her.

Her gaze drops and tears meet her skin.

"Go on." The soldier says. "Hug him."

The girl looks up at him. She doesn't dare to speak.

The soldier is a lot taller than her and he looks cold. He looks angry.

"Sir..." Namjoon begins, but he stops as soon as the soldier glares at him.

Those eyes burn into his soul. For a moment Namjoon's eyes grow wide. Those eyes... His cold eyes are red. A deep, hungry, bloodthirsty red. But when he blinks, they're back to their black orbs.

"Did I hesitate?"

"N-no..."

"Than what is stopping you from hugging? Work time is over so do what you must. She won't live long." The soldier scoffs.

Both of them stare at him with wide eyes.

"What do you mean?" Namjoon asks, quietly opening his arms. The girl wastes no time to engulf herself in his warm embrace, not minding his blood stained clothes and dusty skin.

"I'm eating her."

"You're... You're kidding?" Namjoon's heart starts to pound in his chest in fear, climbing with fear.

But the soldier's lips don't curl up. He doesn't burst out in laughter. He only crosses his arms.

"Does it look like I'm joking in any way?"

No. He doesn't.

"So... You're a...--"

"Cannibal? No." The soldier chuckles. "You could call me someone who saves a lot of effort for the cooking ladies. I don't eat food from the cafeteria. They send a lady here each night for me to feed off."

Namjoon immediately stands up when the soldier takes a step closer and wastes not a single second to get the girl behind him.

The soldier tilts his head. "Are you... protecting her?"

"You are not touching her."

The soldier scoffs. "How brave. Very well. I'll let her go tonight."

The soldier reaches for the girl's arms and pulls her away towards the doors.

"So leave. I won't be needing you."

The girl immediately gives a short bow and runs away. The soldier sighs and shuts the door again.

Namjoon sits back down with a sigh and raises one of the bloodied sheets, going back to trying to scrub the stains off.

The soldier watches him with pity.

What would a boy like him do in a place like this? Of course he was taken. The soldier was taken himself too.

No one in his family has trouble with it. That is because he has no family.

He went because he knows he can survive.

His eyes observe the man. His skinny body, his pale skin, his dead eyes with hollow, dull bags underneath. His dirty uniform and messy hair.

The poor soul.

His throat is dry. People who are brave are always better. People who are afraid when they see him. But this boy is not worth dying. They'd suspect if their only cleaning boy was gone, but he doesn't exactly look like he's having the best time.

The soldier grabs him by his wrist, having Namjoon flinch when he rolls up his sleeve.

Scars... Some new, deep, fresh. Others dull and faded into a white scar or a bump in his skin. Blue and red spots all over with dirt covering his skin. His rough, dirty skin.

The soldier tsks at the sight. "Filth." He mutters.

He presses down on one of the fresh scars with his thumb, feeling Namjoon flinch and trying to pull away.

But the soldier smirks at the way his veins push against his skin and he presses down harder.

Namjoon starts to whine, to ask to be let go. But the soldier doesn't do anything. He sees tears welling in Namjoon's eyes.

He sighs and lets go after a while, watching his veins push further, visible in his skin, before they slowly disappear.

How interesting.

His throat feels like sandpaper whenever he swallows. But the man's neck... is covered in bruises.

One more shouldn't matter.

There is a silence when the soldier steps away, walking further into the comfort station.

Namjoon continues to wash the sheets in silence. Minutes pass until sharp edges dig into his waist, force pushing him forward into the barrel.

He gasps for breath, but a hand pushes his head down into the soap water. It hurts his eyes, his lungs.

But he lets out a scream when sharp needles punch holes into his neck. He can't breathe...

He feels something wet and rough gliding along his neck, warm blood trickling down his neck into the water.

He chokes for help before his sight becomes black and his lungs are full, passing out, knowing he's dead.

°•●•°

Why is it so bright...?

Namjoon groans, his eyes fluttering open. The sun is bright in his face.

What time is it?

Didn't his alarm go?

"Wake up." A husky voice growls at him.

Namjoon rubs his eyes, sitting up. "What time is it?"

"It's seven. Time to shower."

His eyes shoot wide open and he rushes out of bed. He's late! But... something isn't right.

The walls are completely white. the floor is clean with wood. The bed was soft and the blanket filled and warm.

His clothes...

He looks down. He wears a clean pair of black sweatpants that are much too big for him, with an oversized white t-shirt.

"Who...?"

"I changed you. You were dirty."

Namjoon looks up.

On the other side of the room stands a man. A soldier. The same soldier of last night. He's still talking in Korean, this time, Namjoon replies in Korean as well.

"Who are you...?"

He man turns to him. His eyes are still cold and his lips are still pulled into a line.

"Go and shower. I'll go after you. You need it more."

Namjoon frowns. "You... You didn't answer my question."

The soldier scoffs. "Kim Namjoon."

The man looks up at him at the sound of his name, hearing the soldier chant it like a spell as he walks closer to him.

His eyes...

Red.

"My name is Yoongi." The soldier says. "And you passed out last night. I pumped the water from your stomach and gave you a reason to live."

Namjoon sulks at his words. "What reason is there? I'm leaving. I'm late."

Yoongi grabs his arm tightly, preventing him from leaving.

"You aren't cleaning that place anymore."

Namjoon frowns. "What do you mean?"

Yoongi smirks. "You're a soldier now, Namjoon. You're training with me today."

Namjoon glares at him before bursting into laughter. As if they'd let him back into the military.

But Yoongi doesn't laugh. He's dead serious.

For a moment Namjoon stops, glares at him before noticing that Yoongi isn't kidding...

But how?

He's been disobedient...

"So go shower." Yoongi says. "This is our dorm."

But Namjoon doesn't move. Those red eyes glare inside his soul. Yoongi sighs and pulls him with into the bathroom and starts to pull the shirt over his head.

Namjoon squeaks and quickly hides his chest for the scars, only to realize...

They're gone...

Yoongi is already pulling down the sweatpants before Namjoon can kick his face, but he's amazed by his flawless skin.

Free of scars. Free of blue and red spots. Free of blood. It's smooth and pale, soft to the touch.

"Go. Shower." Yoongi urges, turning on the water.

It takes a moment for Namjoon to realize that Yoongi has fully undressed him, and he quickly hides himself.

"What the hell?! Get out!"

"I've changed you. Those clothes are mine. I've seen every bit of you. We vampires have nothing to hide from each other." Yoongi snarls at him.

Namjoon freezes at his words, staring at him with wide eyes. "V-vampires?!"

Yoongi grins slyly and nods. "What? Are you scared?" He chuckles, taking a strong step forward.

Namjoon takes a step back.

Yoongi takes another step forward.

Namjoom steps back, into the raining shower. Yoongi surely won't come when he's in there...

But Yoongi steps in the shower without hesitation, smirking as the water hit them both. His clothes are soaked and his hair drapes water over his face.

He eyes Namjoon up and down, his now healed body and flawless skin is rid of the dirt.

"You've at least gotten rid of these scars. Except for my mark."

"What mark?"

Yoongi lays his hand on Namjoon's chest, moving up to his collar and around his neck.

Namjoon flinches and winces in pain at the burn that courses through his body at the touch. His hands let loose, shivering as he shakily clamps onto Yoongi's wet shirt.

"S-stop! Stop!"

"Is it still that sensitive?" Yoongi tsks. "It should've been numb by now."

Namjoon looks up at him. "Is that why you have red eyes? Because you're... a vampire?"

"Not just me, sweetheart." Yoongi smirks, leaning to his ears. His cold breath fans on Namjoon's skin. "You too."

"I-I don't have fangs! I have no red eyes!"

"Your skin. How do you think those scars disappeared? Look into the glass."

Namjoon gulps. Knowing Yoongi's tone and choice of words. If he looks, he'll see something he doesn't want to see...

But nonetheless, he turns to look into the glass. There is a red glinster coming from where's looking. His reflection is him. With red eyes.

"But how?! What happened to me?!"

Yoongi sighs and swipes his wet hair back. "Are you really that stupid? I bit you last night. I fed from your blood and let you live. I gave you my own. It adapted to your pretty body and made you my own."

"Your... own?"

"You ask a lot." Yoongi grumbles. "Yes. My own. My own kind. You're a vampire now, Namjoon. You're my species. My race."

Namjoon looks up at him. He's still skinny and unhealthy, but he doesn't feel different.

"B-but... F-fangs?"

Yoongi smirks and he presses on his jaw. Namjoon whines as he opens his mouth.

He feels saliva filling his mouth and he struggles to swallow it with an open mouth.

"They're there." Yoongi chuckles. "Sharp, but short. I need a trigger..."

He looks around and shrugs. He takes his own arm and snaps his fangs into his skin.

Namjoon gasps. Yoongi's fangs are long and sharp, like long needles sharpened like a knife.

When he slips his fangs out, they're dripping with dark red blood, thick drops immediately welling in the wound.

Namjoon freezes. He can smell it... Even though it shouldn't be able to be so strong, Namjoon can smell it like it's right in front of him.

He whines, covering his nose. The scent penetrates his nostrils. Is it normal to be this tempted?
He can feel his limbs move on their own.

His free hand, reaching out for the drops of falling blood. The scent, so sweet it seemed like honey. His mouth, salivating in hunger for those cherry red sweets.

His lip hurts. He feels warm drops in his mouth.

His hand trembles as he gently grabs onto Yoongi's soft, pale arm. He bring the wound up to his lips. The scent is stronger. Tempting him.

He bares his fangs, feeling them hurt for contact with the soft flesh that he can feel throbbing at the touch.

His gentle hold on Yoongi's arm, his throbbing fangs, his starving thirst.

"Go ahead." Yoongi whispers sweetly. "Take a bite."

Namjoon glances at him. Those amused eyes... Pretty. He feels the tip of his fangs with his tongue before it slips out with a hungry vampiric hiss.

A long tongue, hungry for a taste slips out to wet his lips before he opens his mouth widely, the tip of his fangs shining in the sunlight as he stabs them into Yoongi's skin.

He lets out a moan of delight, sinking his fangs right through his flesh. Blood drips in bigger drops at the bigger wound and he looks up. Yoongi looks down at him, almost pleased. Proud.

"Suck. Drink my blood with all your hunger." Yoongi growls.

And as told, Namjoon does. His tongue flat against the skin to catch every falling drop as he greedily starts to suck on the wound.

He can feel blood sliding past his fangs before they drip into his mouth on his tongue.

To say it made him excited was an understatement.

He was overwhelmed with the taste, his claws digging into Yoongi's skin as he greedily grabs every drop he can take before Yoongi grabs his neck and presses onto his mark.

Namjoon flinches, whines and pulls away, drops of blood dripping from his fangs.

His eyes are big and wide, panting as Yoongi rubs the sore wound on his arm.

"There we go." He mutters. "As a vampire we drink blood. We eat meat. Meat only and raw from the bone. Warm food can make us sick."

"Why?" Namjoon asks panting, already craving more of Yoongi's blood as it washes away under the shower.

Yoongi tsks and looks down at himself. "I'm all wet." He grumbles, pulling his shirt over his head. "You took too long anyway so we might as well shower at the same time."

"Wait what--?!"

"Don't worry." Yoongi says. "Keep your eyes up."

Namjoon nods slowly as Yoongi starts to undress, throwing his soaked clothes on the floor before stretching his milky pale body with a yawn.

Namjoon still looks up. Eye contact remains between them as Yoongi raises one of his brows towards him.

He scoffs. "You're kinda creepy like that." He says. "Pretty big eyes. Bloodied fangs. Pretty skin with terrifying claws. Staring at me like a stalker."

Yoongi chuckles deeply before pulling Namjoon from the wall, closer into the stream of the shower.

"You look like I'm about to kill you..." He whispers. "Slaughter you and cut you up. Like I'll drink your delicious blood before ripping your skin off and feasting off your body. But you'd be fine with it, because you knew. Because you stalked me."

Namjoon still keeps his eye contact. "Why do we get sick from warm food?" He asks again.

Yoongi sighs, annoyed at his failed attempt to have Namjoon flinch. "Our bodies are cold. If we get warm food inside us, we won't be able to digest it well. It warms us up to a point of unhealthy sickness. Never eat warm food."

Namjoon nods quietly. He sighs for himself and lays his head against Yoongi's chest, in his neck.

The smell... of blood...

Namjoon can feel his fangs throb. After feeling them slide into his gums, he can feel them emerge again.

It's simply irresistible...

Yoongi chuckles, curling an arm around Namjoon's waist. To think this kid was cleaning things. Unbelievable.

Because now, Namjoon looks like he's about to kill someone.

"Can you wash your hair or should I do it for you?" Yoongi asks, noticing how Namjoon's body trembles and how hard he tries to control his fangs from biting.

Namjoon mutters something under his breath before grabbing the shampoo and pushing it into Yoongi's hands.

The older chuckles at Namjoon's change in behavior. But inside he is still the shy, brave boy he met last night.

°•●•°

Washed up and set, Namjoon follows Yoongi to the field. It's mostly empty but for six others.

Their scent...

Namjoon can feel his instinct building up. The want to drink. The want to kill.

But Yoongi simply grins and moves a little upfront.

"Goodmorning." He says in Japanese. "My apologies for being a bit later today. Our newest member had some pain in his lower back and neck so I had to assist him."

The soldiers bow. But Namjoon growls. He's in the beginners group.

He's been in military service for a whole year! At least before the madness of disobedience...

But Yoongi gives him a short wink.

Namjoon blinks a few times, feeling his cheeks heat up. He quickly looks away and huffs when everyone goes to work.

There are seven trainees, including him. An uneven number.

Yoongi steps to Namjoon, who's lips are trembling to speak. But he can't get a word from his mouth. He hisses at the older vampire and crosses his arms.

"Easy." Yoongi whispers. "You're a vampire. Alongside me, the only one here. Jealousy looks good on you."

"I'm not jealous." Namjoon snaps quietly.

"Oh? He speaks?" Yoongi teases, placing his thumb at Namjoon's upper lip. He raises it slightly, showing part of his gums and fangs. They're pushing into his bottom lip.

Namjoon releases a growl, when Yoongi slides his thumb down along the sharp edge of hs fangs, cutting his finger on the tip.

The little taste that drops onto his tongue is enough to make Namjoon shiver and mon in ecstacy.

It never stops tasting good. It lingers in his mouth for hour and hours.

And those six stand in his way.

Yoongi's blood is his.

Not like anyone else could take it exactly...

"Go ahead." Yoongi whispers. "Kill them. Make me proud."

Namjoon watches with big eyes s the trainer steps back. He's filled with thirst and hunger. His muscles throb to grab the young one's throat. To feel the tiny neck in his hand.

To bite one. To stab one with his fangs.

The thoughts are too overwhelming. Before he knows it he's lunged himself to the first trainee, sinking his sharp fang deep into the skull.

The other trainees scream and try to run, but once they see Yoongi standing by the door, they realize there is no safe way out.

Minefields, door blocked.

And two hungry vampires.

Yoongi isn't even trying to stop Namjoon. From wound to wound, bite to bite. He's using his instincts.

Yoongi smirks once all of the boys are laying there. Bleeding in their own red grass.

And Namjoon stands in front of him with big eyes, a wide smile with sharp, bloodied fangs and a mouth covered in splatters and stains.

"How did I do?" He asks.

Yoongi pats his head, cupping his cheek. "Very good. I'm proud of you."

Namjoon smiles widely. Two dimples pop from his blood splattered cheeks and Yoongi chuckles, moving closer.

"Very proud." Yoongi mutters, before pressing their lips together strongly.
Namjoon wastes no time into showing his own affection.

Yoongi is proud of him...

Of him.

Nobody else.

Just. Him.

Panting as they part, Yoongi move his fingers in between them. A string of blood connects them. Yoongi breaks it softly, hungrily licking the blood away.

In war or not. Both of them will go to the end for each other. Whether that meant killing a few comfort women for their food, or killing a sixteen-year-old for catching them drink.

Every meal was ended with a bloody kiss, sure to leave marks.

|=|THE END|=|

Questions of the Chapter:

Who allowed Yoongi to feed of comfort women if no one there is a vampire?

How did Namjoon get all his tasks done in one hour when he first worked there and how did it get to longer hours if nothing changed?

Who are the six other soldiers?

Do you think the six soldiers will return?

Why is Yoongi so shameless?

What caused Namjoon to become so jealous?

How did Yoongi activate Namjoon's vampirism?