#fairys-boo-bash

You couldn't quite remember how you were dying. You thought perhaps that someone might've attacked you from behind, slit your throat, and whatnot. But it didn't matter anymore. It wasn't like you could do much other than lie there in the dingy alley you had been thrown in after the attacker spooked.

Why had they spooked?

The sound of footsteps crunching on cobblestone drew what little energy you had to avert your gaze where you had been watching clouds move across the sky. It wasn't like you had any energy to do much else.

But then you see him.

Dressed in a suit as black as the night sky and his skin as pale as a corpse, the man has an otherworldly sense about him… As if he isn't quite human.

He crouches next to your body, tilting his head this way and that as he removes a pair of gloves from his pale hands. When he touches your already cooling body, his hands are even colder than yours. He picks up your wrist, drops it, and watches it as you have no strength to keep it up.

"You're dying." He says, sounding all too bored for having just found a body in an alley. He doesn't scream or cry or run to call the police; he just watches you with those red eyes that stare deep into your soul.

"Of course I am!" You want to shout, but you can do nothing more than gurgle slightly as you manage to turn your head to look at him. The blood on your neck and upper chest is sapping any and all heat, but you can't even shiver.

You suppose that's what happens when you're dying.

The man leans in, brushing his nose against the veins in your wrist, which he had picked up again. When he smiles, you see elongated canines and feel a dull sense of fear as blackness starts to creep at the edge of your vision.

Is he a—

The pinch of pain as he bites into your wrist is the last thing you feel before the blackness swallows you whole, and you fall into nothingness.

The air is warm when you come to. A sliver of candlelight peeks through your closed eyelids, and you give a quiet grunt when you manage to peel them open.

That was your first sign that something was strange.

Weren't you dying?

You open your eyelids to an intricately painted ceiling. It reminds you of the Sistene Chapel, not that you had seen it in person, but you had heard stories. You lie motionless on a four-poster bed with curtains drawn mostly shut around you.

What?

How?

The blankets are heavy for your weakened body, so you can't do much else than lie there. At least, until the door to whatever room you're in opens and you hear footsteps.

Multiple pairs of footsteps. And then you hear someone speaking as they draw closer to the bed.

"Has she woken up yet?" It's an older man's voice.

"No. But she should've by now! It's been three days already!" A younger man's that sounds vaguely familiar. The younger man whines impatiently and throws open the curtains to the bed, eyes immediately catching on you. You stare back.

The air is suddenly filled with energy, and your memories come flooding back.

The man.

His smile.

The bite.

The bite.

You sit bolt upright in bed, blankets thrown back as you get to your feet and back away from the two. The other man is taller and bald, with a scar running over his left eye. They both stare at you, surprised, and you take that chance to run.

The door is something you know should be heavy, but it isn't when you throw it open and sprint through into the hallway. The room is large, with a massive staircase down the middle, and it leads to a set of double doors. You're clothed in the dress you had been wearing when you thought you were dying, blood stains coating the front half, and as you run, you feel your throat.

Nothing.

How?!

The door bangs open again behind you, and it spurs you into motion. You lift your skirts and run, faster than you had any right to move, but it's to no avail. Just as you hit the steps at a dead sprint, something tumbles into you and you're sent flying.

Sturdy arms wrap around your body, and you're cradled to someone's chest as the two of you go tumbling down the stairs. But you aren't harmed. The person takes the brunt of the fall, and you duck your head instinctively as you finally come to a stop.

It's the young man from before. You're lying on the ground as he perches above you, elbows keeping him from crushing your body as he offers you a cheeky grin.

"You're fast," Is all he manages to get out before he's unceremoniously yanked off your body and held in the air by the other man.

"Get off the lady!" The man barks, and the younger man lets out an exasperated groan,

"It's not like I was gonna do anything!" He whines, and you take that chance to get to your feet.

"Where am I? What did you do to me?" You demand, the first words you've spoken since waking up, since you had nearly died, really. Your voice is cracked like the cobblestone and dusty like the rest of the mansion you now realize yourself to be in.

The older man, still holding his friend by the scruff of his clothes, is the one who answers.

"You're in Master Narumi's mansion. He brought you here after he found you." He says, and you recoil.

"But I was dying." You reply bluntly, and the younger man wriggles like a centipede in his grasp,

"I saved you! A thanks would be nice, y'know!" He complains, and you grimace.

"Who are you anyway?" You ask instead, and the man finally drops his friend rather roughly on the floor.

"I am Hasegawa. This is Master Narumi. He is the head of this house." He says and bows slightly, pushing this 'Master Narumi' to do the same.

When Master Narumi straightens up, he offers you that same grin he did before.

But nothing changes.

No excitement, no drama, nothing.

At least… until he arrived.

Swathed in black and deep silver with a mask in the shape of a silver skull, the mysterious man instantly commanded control of the room. His black and silver suit catches the candlelight effortlessly. Conversations petered out, people turning to see the nameless man.

He's tall, taller than anyone had any right to be compared to someone such as yourself. And his sharp blue eyes pierce through the crowd, scanning among the still twirling bodies to see you.

What?

Why?

You're dressed in an intricate dress and equally intricate mask, sure, what with your mother harping on you to find a romantic partner, but surely you don't stand out that much… Right?

You end up losing sight of the man after you set your champagne down and head back to the dance floor to dance some more. More nameless faces. More boredom. More nothingness.

Until you twirl your way into the arms of this mysterious man.

He catches you effortlessly, hand fitting at your waist like a glove. The music slows to a slower waltz, no longer a light-hearted frenzy that it was before. You look up into the face of the skull-faced man and offer a wry smile.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" You say, and he hums, the sound muffled barely by the mask.

"You caught my eye." He says and spins you in a masterful twirl. He's by far the best dancer you've danced with yet.

"Oh? Glad to see that the feeling is mutual." You purr, and you see his Adam's apple bob slightly as he swallows. He averts his eyes as you titter with laughter.

Eventually, the music starts to bore you yet again, and you stifle a yawn.

The nameless man notices.

"Have you grown bored of me already, m'lady?" He asks slyly, and you arch an eyebrow.

He's a cheeky one, isn't he?

"Oh, heaven's no! Just bored with the same old dancing is all." You quip, and he leans down. You don't miss how a shiver runs down your spine, electrified with emotion.

"How about we ditch this then?" He whispers in your ear, and you shudder at the feeling of his lips brushing your ear.

"I was hoping you'd ask me." You say, ignoring the voice crack that he definitely notices, judging by the crinkling around his eyes that you can see through the mask.

He takes you to the courtyard, where the snow has begun to drift from the sky and onto the ground. It doesn't quite stick, but the silence speaks volumes. You sigh in relief as the weight of the room inside falls off your shoulders like a cape being discarded. The man follows as you begin to dance in the snow. Perhaps dancing isn't the right word; you're more or less swaying as the snow falls around you.

"Thank you." You say suddenly, and he cocks his head. It's almost unnerving to be watched by a man with a skull for a face.

"For what m'lady?" He asks, and you hum with laughter,

"For getting me out of there. I was terribly bored." You say and beckon for him to lean down. Which he does.

Your mask doesn't hinder your face much, allowing you to press a surprise kiss to the curve of the mask's cheekbone. He audibly chokes on his inhale, and you simper with a rather surprisingly genuine smile.

"Consider this my thanks." You say, and he straightens hastily, adjusting his coat and clearing his throat.

"Of course, m'lady." He says, but gestures toward the middle of the courtyard, "But I really must be going." His tone is quick, embarrassed, but not at you, at himself.

You peek around the lamp post and watch as he walks toward a large statue in the middle of the courtyard.

You were woken up by a cat.

This, in and of itself, wasn't that unusual. In fact, it occurred most mornings. What was odd was that he didn't close the window. He always closed the window. You shivered under your soft mountain of blankets as the chill crept in and peeled open your eyelids to see a black house cat sitting on your mattress, watching you with vibrant purple eyes.

"What time is it?" You mumble, voice thick with sleep. The cat cocks its head, and you scowl. "I know you can understand me." You say, and the cat rolls its eyes. Actually rolls its eyes.

But again, this isn't that odd. He always was a sassy one.

You eventually roll out of bed, scratching your head as you meander your way through spells and brain fog and head toward the kitchen. The cat weaves his way through your legs as if he's trying to kill you, but you're an expert in this kinda thing, especially when you're half asleep.

You also know he isn't, in fact, trying to kill you; he's just happy to see you awake.

By the time you started your coffee maker, things had shifted. You wave away a stray spell floating around your head, and a pair of arms wrap around your waist. You turn to see Soshiro, blowing away the cat hair from his transformation, and offering you a cheeky grin. You huff and push his forehead away, but he lets out a whine and noses your cheek.

"You slept in late again." He grumbled, but it was good-natured. Almost teasing. You shrug,

"Late night. Though you wouldn't know, you fell asleep at like 8 PM." You tease right back, and he nudges your cheek again with his nose,

"I need my beauty sleep. You know this." He quips, and you chuckle. The coffee maker beeps, and you pour yourself a mug, leaving the rest for Soshiro, and make your way back to your workroom.

The air is thick with magic, almost so much that it makes the room hazy. It shimmers like a mirage.

Just how you like it. You can get a lot of work done that way. Just reaching up to pluck spells out of the air and add them to your cauldron, it was… well… magical.

Soshiro watched from the doorway, a fond smile on his face as he watched you all but dance around the cauldron, adding spells and herbs, all to create something to be bottled up and sold to other witches.

It was peaceful.

At least until someone broke down your door.

It happened near when the sun was at its highest in the sky, and therefore, when you were at your weakest. You were always strongest when it was a full moon. But that was weeks away.

Maybe they planned it like this. Maybe they knew you were vulnerable. Or maybe it was sheer dumb luck.

Either way, you were in danger.

Soshiro was out gathering herbs while you worked on your latest potion. You were running low on some of your supplies, and he had offered to go find some.

It was then that they struck.

The sound of your wooden door cracking and splintering had you pausing in your incantation. You flinched as the sound of metal burying itself into the wooden frame.

What was happening?

You flinch again as you begin to hear voices.

"FIND THE WITCH!" A man's voice, and instantly, your heart stops at his words.

You'd been found out?

How?!

You only practiced magic within your own home or with a coven in the sacred areas!

You hear the crackling of fire as whoever this was began to set things alight. And you begin to panic as smoke starts to fill your home.

But you don't have any time to worry about that, as the man finds you.

He has a wicked grin on his face as he turns slightly and bellows, "I FOUND THE WITCH!" But he doesn't get much further than that, as you reach into your cauldron, grab a rogue spell that hasn't been incorporated yet, and fling it at the intruder.

It latches onto his face and begins to burn.

Other men rush into the room as he falls to the floor, screaming and holding his face. But he's not a witch nor a familiar. Therefore, he can't even touch the spell that's melting skin from bone.

It's not enough.

In the commotion, something gets thrown at you, and everything goes black.

When you come to, you're tied up.

There's wild brush around your feet, bundled into kindling, and your arms are tied behind you. You let out a muffled groan, as there is a dirty rag shoved in your mouth.

Everything hurts. Your jaw from the cloth, your wrists and ankles from the bindings, and your head especially hurts from whatever had hit you.

A man is speaking below you, feet planted firmly on the ground, dressed in a priest's robes, and you hold in a roll of your eyes. He's reciting scripture, as if calling you to repent of your 'sins'.

All you had done was practice a little witchcraft. Surely that wasn't worth burning someone at the stake for.

But questioning other people's life choices wasn't high on the priority list.

Escaping was. Especially as they lit a torch and dropped it on the bundle of kindling. It went up like one of your spells gone wrong.

The heat was agonizing.

But you didn't scream.

At least, not until Soshiro crashed through the crowd. You couldn't tell it was him at first. For he was a great beast similar to those you had heard about in stories. He was covered in sleek fur and was built like… well… a monster. The only thing that told you it was him was the eyes. Those glowing purple eyes you loved so much.

He burst through the people surrounding to watch you burn. Swiping people left and right, gobbling some of them up in his disastrous maw. Pain bloomed in you like a spell blossoming in your palms as flesh was burnt to the bone. But you didn't care about that. You cared that they were going to try and kill him.

So you began to scream.

You screamed and cried and thrashed as the fire started to boil you alive. But it wasn't for you. Men rallied their rifles and spears and pitchforks, some grabbed burning wood from the bonfire roasting you, and threw them at Soshiro. He roared and cried in rage and pain, but that didn't stop him from sprouting wings and erupting into the air with the fury of a hurricane. He swooped in an scooped you from the fire, fierce claws tearing at the ropes keeping you captive.

As wind began to rustle your hair, the pain began to set in in earnest and black started to creep on the edge of your vision. But… Before you passed out… You heard something.

Soshiro pleading.

"Stay with me sweetheart. Stay with me!"

When you come to, it's raining. You're in a rocky area, you can hear the rain pattering against the rock, and you feel feathers underneath you.

Feathers?

Your eyelids feel like a million pounds and sluggish to boot as you peel them open.

Soshiro is at the mouth if the cave you're in. His transformation is slow, bald wings slowly retreating into his body as he plucks at the last remaining feathers and tosses them behind him.

He must've exerted a lot of energy with that stunt he just pulled.

Something must've tipped him off to the fact that you were awake because as soon as you open your eyes, he's turning to check on you.

"What happened?" You rasp, voice thick with smoke inhalation and screams. He doesn't move.

"They tried burning you alive." He says and it's then that you remember in detail, what had happened.

The fire.

The pain.

Soshiro.

As much as you'd like to sit up and go to him, you can't. Because the moment you try to sit up, pain overwhelms you and you fall back into the feathers with a wheezing pained whine. Soshiro stands then, his bald wings shrinking even more as he makes his way over to your side. It's then that you realize that you're coated in a spell. Something murky and half baked, but it protects you from the feathers sticking to your bubbled and boiled skin.

Speaking of your skin…

Blisters and pustules dot your body like constellations. All degrees of burns as well taint your skin until you can no longer tell what you used to look like. You can only imagine what your face looks like…

"Did you cast the spell?" You ask and he nods, averting his gaze.

"I'm much more of an amplifier than a caster. That's why is sucks ass." He says in a half-hearted joking manner. Your fingers twitch until they manage to touch his where he's sitting at your side. The feathers rustle as he does, and he uses his magic to shift you till you're more comfortable.

Soshiro turns his hand to caress yours carefully, thumbing what seems to be the only patch of unburned skin.

You felt like a monster…

"Thank you. For saving me." You whisper and he bares his teeth in a snarl.

"I was too late. You still got hurt." He growls and your lips twinge in a smile.

"You still saved my life. They tried to kill me. You stopped them." He shakes his head and looks away to the mouth of the cave. You can tell in how he holds his shoulders and clenches his jaw that he still blames himself.

Familiars are supposed to protect their witches after all.

The coroner labeled it an accident. The wrong place at the wrong time, as they put it.

Uta had been waiting for you to get home when he got the call. He was your emergency contact; you had been together for years, so it made sense. You were being transported to Tokyo General Hospital, but your prospects weren't looking good. The police officer wouldn't say much over the phone, only that he needed to be there for you.

However, it seemed the world had it out for him.

Every traffic light was red, there was CCG patrolling every street, and it seemed everything was hellbent on him not making it to the hospital in time. Hell, he had even run across the rooftops like some teenager ghoul having fun, but he wasn't having fun; he was worried.

But it wasn't enough.

By the time he blurted out your name to the receptionist, it seemed news had already passed through the hospital. He could see even behind his sunglasses that the light in the nurse's eyes dimmed and her demeanor changed.

No…

"I can take you to see him if you like. They were waiting for you to arrive before…" She trailed off, and he felt a flash of irritation.

"Before what?" He barely held in a snap. But the nurse still hunched her shoulders and looked away.

"Before they move the body. Sorry, it doesn't get any easier to have these conversations." She mumbled, and a doctor stepped in then, as they neared the room at the end of the emergency department.

"My name is Dr. Tanaka. I was the emergency medical specialist working on your fiancé." He said, and Uta nodded, pushing his sunglasses up his nose, and followed silently behind the doctor.

The scent of blood had his mouth watering, but he paid no mind to his stomach.

You were covered in a white sheet. He could tell it was you by your scent, even through the stink of medical antiseptic and cleaner. He barely registered Dr. Tanaka shutting the curtains behind the duo to give them privacy and instead walked to where your head would be.

Dr. Tanaka made a noise, and Uta stopped.

"What?" He snapped now, heart racing as he paused in revealing your face. Some twisted part of him hoped it was someone else. Someone else could deal with the pain and grief of losing their loved one.

"I just want to warn you that his injuries were severe. Just… Prepare yourself." Dr. Tanaka said, and Uta stopped before steeling his nerves and pulling the sheet back.

Your throat had been ripped out. That much was obvious. But surprisingly, there were not many other injuries. Your throat was stitched shut. Well… What could be stitched up anyway. Chunks of flesh were missing. But there was no blood.

The smell of cleaner was overwhelming, and he felt his eyes well with tears from the acrid scent.

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss." Dr. Tanaka said softly, "I'll give you some time before we decide anything. His chart marked you as his emergency contact and next of kin, so we'll need you to fill out some paperwork." He said, and Uta nodded numbly, sinking into the chair by the gurney that held your prone body.

Uta barely heard the doctor leave.

You were buried within the week.

There weren't many people who attended the funeral. Just a few from Anteiku and some of your friends around Tokyo. Not that you had many. Ghouls tended to be solitary creatures; it was a wonder the two of you had even gotten together.

Life moved on.

It was the little things over the days that reminded him of you.

The way he kept some of the flowers from your funeral dried and pressed in between some of your favorite books to be framed. But he never got around to it.

The way your slippers were haphazardly tossed on the shoe rack in your shared apartment, as if waiting for you to come straighten them.

The way he couldn't bear to wash your dirty coffee mug in the sink because that meant washing you down the drain.

The way he could still smell your cologne wafting from the pillow next to him in bed. He found where you kept it and spritzed some on the pillowcase to keep the smell alive. Because while he knew you weren't alive anymore, his heart still couldn't handle that fact.

But things changed a month after your funeral.

He woke up to the sound of glass breaking.

Almost immediately, his kagune started to pop and bubble underneath his skin, ready to slither out at a moment's notice and kill whoever dared intrude on his home. His sanctuary. The only place he still felt you lingered.

Uta rolled out of bed and onto his feet as silently as a cat with no collar. He hid behind the door as the sound of someone walking over the glass registered in his ears.

A light flickered on above the kitchen sink, and he peeked through the crack in the doorframe.

Only to yank it open two seconds later and come face to face with you.

You were still dressed in the suit you were buried in. Dirt was encrusted around your fingernails, and the nails themselves were cracked and broken. In fact, dirt was everywhere. On your suit, in your hair, it invaded every crevice of your being, but you looked at him with a bewildered expression.

"Uta?" Your voice cracked and rusted as if you hadn't used it in years. Which was impossible. But so was the fact that you were standing before him. He didn't say anything. And when you got closer, whispering, "Uta? Talk to me." He backed away.

"You're supposed to be dead. I buried you." He said and took another step back.

And another.

And another until his back hit the bedroom door.

What was happening?

Was this some sick joke?

"I—I don't know what happened. One second I was walking home and then… I think I died?" Your voice was gaining clarity as you spoke more and recounted the events of the day you died.

All the while, Uta listened. Because what else could he do? Scream? Cry? He never cried anymore. He hadn't even cried at your funeral, for he was too numb to do anything but listen to those recounting your life.

"The coroner said you were in the wrong place at the wrong time." He croaked out when you were done speaking. You reached forward with a shaking hand, and he finally allowed himself to take it. To feel your skin once more.

However, something was wrong.

You were icy cold. As if you had no blood in your body. He frowned and looked from your hand to your face. It was clear you were still in shock, and still covered in dirt.

But that didn't matter.

Because you were home. He didn't know how, or why, or how you were even alive, but he pushed that to the back of his mind and pulled you into a tight hug.

This in and of itself wasn't that uncommon. Chuuya always was a bit of a romantic.

But this time the candles were floating.

Odd… He wasn't one to use his ability for "frivolous things" as he'd put it.

You toe off your shoes and set down your work bag laden with laptop and planners, and walk into the penthouse suite.

Candles are everywhere. Dotting the coffee table by the couch. There's a smattering on the kitchen island, and of course, the ones floating in the air. They drift through the space like lackadaisical dandelions floating in a breeze. But they never bump into the walls, never catch the drapes or anything else on fire, they just… exist.

"Babe?" You look up to the second floor where your shared bedroom is, and see Chuuya leaning over the railing. You waggle your fingers and he huffs good-naturedly, hanging his head, "You weren't supposed to be back for another hour!" You smile up at him as he starts down the spiral staircase that leads to the front room.

"My boss let me off early. He knew it was our anniversary today." You say and welcome his kiss to your cheek readily. He isn't wearing his customary gloves, meaning he had likely cooked before you got home and had gone upstairs to change before you had arrived.

"Well tell him I say thank you." He teases and you nod with an easy-going smile.

"Will do, what did you make?" You say, steering the conversation away from work and toward what he was undoubtedly up to while you were working.

He lit up with a boyish sort of charm and gestured toward the kitchen as you meandered your way in.

"You'll have to see." He says mysteriously, but you can already feel your mouth start to water at the smell of spices and food cooking.

"Did Koyo help you this time?" You ask, not intending to tease him, but genuinely curious if the fellow Port Mafia executive helped cook this meal. He wasn't typically allowed in the kitchen unsupervised. Especially if there was alcohol involved.

But to your surprise, Chuuya shook his head with a borderline excited grin. Chuuya wasn't one to get excited easily. Angry, maybe, but excited? He must've done a lot if he was this anxious to show you.

"No, well…" He paused, thinking his words over, "She supervised. But I did all the cooking myself." He said proudly and you leaned in to peck his cheek.

"I'm proud of you. Can we eat yet then?" You say, and as if on cue, your stomach growls. Chuuya laughs and nods, getting you settled at the dining table before serving dinner.

It's delicious.

And you can't help but reach across the table and entwine your fingers with his as the candles float above you,

"Happy anniversary my love." He leans across the table and presses a kiss to your lips,

The Rules Are:

All requests are written as character x reader!

Everything is gender neutral reader, unless specifically stated otherwise (e.g., you request a female reader) [I now write for male readers!]

TWO REQUESTS PER PERSON

Please send them in separately so I can keep track of everything!

Any orders that do not follow the rules will be deleted.

All requests will be tagged under #fairys-boo-bash

Prompts to Choose From:

Ghosts

Vampires

Werewolves

Pumpkins

Witches

Nightmares

Candlelight

Cryptids

Apple Orchards

Rain

Scarecrows

Ravens/Crows

Frankenstein's Monster

Mirrors

Masks

Poisons/Potions

Shadows

Maze

Familiar

Movie

I Will Write for the Following People:

Arcane: League of Legends: Viktor, Silco, Jayce Talis, Vander

Bungou Stray Dogs: Nakajima Atsushi, Nakahara Chuuya, Dazai Osamu, Kunikida Doppo, Fukuzawa Yukichi, Saigiku Jouno, Suehiro Tecchou

The Case Study of Vanitas: Vanitas, Noé Archiviste, Roland Fortise

Darker than Black: Hei, November 11

Demon Slayer: All the Hashira (aged up if they are minors), Akaza, Kokushibo, Douma, Kamado Tanjiro (aged up), Agatsuma Zenitsu (aged up), Hashibira Inosuke (aged up)

Fullmetal Alchemist: Roy Mustang, Greed (not Greedling), Alex Louis Armstrong, Edward Elric (post-FMAB), Alphonse Elric (post-FMAB), Ling Yao (post-FMAB)

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo Satoru, Fushiguro Toji, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Itadori Yuuji (aged up), Fushiguro Megumi (aged up)

Kaiju No. 8: Hibino Kafka, Ichikawa Reno, Hoshina Soshiro, Narumi Gen, Furuhashi Iharu

Moriarty the Patriot: William James Moriarty, Albert James Moriarty, Louis James Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Fred Porlock, Sebastian Moran, James Bonde

Solo Leveling: Sung Jinwoo, Choi Jong-In, Baek Yoon-Ho, Min Byung-Gyu,

Tokyo Ghoul: Uta, Kaneki Ken, Kirishima Touka, Kirishima Ayato (re: age), Nishio Nishiki, Tsukiyama Shuu

When he wasn't working, he was pacing, rereading letters, looking all over the city, anything.

After all, you hadn't responded to any of his messages for four days, which was unusual for you. You always responded. Always. No matter the time, you always took the time to respond to his letters.

But going on four days? He was anxious. Alphonse tried to calm his brother, but nothing was working.

Where were you?

Were you okay? You lived outside the city so surely nothing had happened to you… Right?

Finally, after the fifth day, Edward had had enough. He saddled up his horse, and rode out into the country side where you were hopefully waiting.

He knew something was wrong the instant he pulled up to your cottage.

The door was unlocked for one. You never left your front door unlocked. He even had a key the moment you two became a couple. A wrought iron key that had protected him from the monsters that haunted this world on more than one occasion. It had saved him so many times in fact that he wore it around his neck permanently.

Second, your dog hadn't come to greet him. It had been a hound he gifted you for your first Christmas as a couple, you had affectionately named her Ellie, after his last name. She always greeted him when he showed up.

Always.

Third… It was just too quiet. There weren't any birds chirping. There was always some sort of songbird in your trees, but now there were none.

And finally… The smell. It was a smell he recognized easily. It had him dismounting his horse as quickly as humanly possible and sprinting toward the unlocked door. For it was the scent of musk and iron and rot. The smell of vampires.

The door opens with a bang as Edward shouts your name over and over and over again. But you don't respond. There's a moaning sound in the back room where your bedroom lied, as if someone was injured.

And it sounded like you.

Tables and chairs are overturned, glass is shattered on the floor, and he sees the flowers he had gotten for you just last week, before you had gone missing, ground into the floorboards.

He finds Ellie under some debris. He upends the fallen table and finds her wheezing. There's a gaping wound in her side and it's a wonder she's even still alive. Edward kneels, his metal leg creaking as he did so and rested his flesh hand on her neck. He can feel how she strains to breathe and he knows she doesn't have long.

He has to find you but… He can't bear to see Ellie die alone and in pain.

So he does the only thing he can think to do and pulls out his knife, raises it above his head, and brings it down swiftly and brutally.

Ellie stills as the blade punctures through her skull and kills her instantly. Edward leans down and presses his forehead against her short fur,

"I'm sorry Ellie." He whispers before standing, his boots squishing in the blood oozing from the hound's corpse. He wipes the knife off on his coat, sheathes it, and heads back to the bedroom.

You're lying prone on the bed, clothes ripped from your body, blood smeared over the walls and floor, soaking into the rug and sheets. Your eyes are open and glassy. He couldn't tell if you're alive or not had he not just heard your pained noises before he found your beloved pet.

Edward is at your side in an instant, taking account of your injuries.

Had you been raped? The trauma to your genital area indicated so. But you were also so coated in blood that he couldn't tell for sure. Your fingers were bruised and purple, clearly broken and when Edward took a closer look, he realized you were missing fingernails. Same with your toes. Your left eye was swollen shut, and you had some blunt force trauma to the head as was evident by your slurred demeanor and inability to recognize things around you.

Edward shed his coat and draped it over your body before scooping you up. Winry and Alphonse could fix you up… Right?

They had to be able to.

Because he wasn't sure what he'd do if they couldn't.

The door to Winry's shop is quite literally kicked down as Edward rushes in. Winry lets out a shriek and drops her wrench,

"Holy shit Ed! Would it kill you to knock next time—" She cuts herself off as she sees your prone form in his arms. He hadn't even tied up his horse outside for heaven's sake.

She switches demeanor immediately.

"Bring her here." She instructs and all but runs to the back room where Granny and Alphonse had to be working. Edward does as she asks, no questions, just laid you down on the table as gently as he could. You let out a pained moan,

"Shh, I know it hurts baby, I know." He says and his voice cracks as your head lolls to the side. He brushes a lock of hair from your face and cups your cheek with his flesh hand. Your skin is frigid like the dead. As if you had been drained of blood.

No… He couldn't afford to think like that. You'd be fine. You wouldn't be turned. You couldn't be.

Winry comes back with Granny in tow. Alphonse follows a few seconds after them.

"Al, take Ed out of here." Granny instructs and Edward immediately protests,

"No way in Hell! I'm not leaving her!" He shouts, shrugging off his brother's hands on his shoulders with a violent wave of his metal hand. Alphonse ducks easily and hooks his arms under his older's brother's armpits.

"It's for your own good Ed. I don't want you seeing her like this." Winry says gently and Edward feels rage bubble up,

"I don't give a shit! I need to be with her!" His voice is getting high and reedy, he's close to tears. But he can't cry. He won't cry. But he can't do much to fight Alphonse off as he drags him from the house and wedges the door shut behind them.

"Why'd you do that?!" Edward demands as Alphonse finally stops dragging Edward away.

"Are you prepared for what could happen?" The younger Elric ignores the demand and instead asks his own question. This gives Edward pause.

"What?" Alphonse's face is grim, his eyes shadowed over and Edward feels a dropping sensation as his stomach plummets.

"She has likely been attacked by a vampire judging on what I saw. You've made a lot of enemies Ed, and they likely targeted her because of that. Are you prepared to lose her?" He asks and Edward drops onto the bench outside the house. He's silent, and Alphonse takes that moment to take Edward's horse to the stables behind the house and tie it up.

When Alphonse returns, Edward speaks.

"I think if she dies… I won't be able to continue. She's everything to me Al. I love her too much to bear thinking of losing her." His voice sounds monotonous to his own ears, void of any emotion even though inside it's like he's fighting with himself. Fighting the urge to go inside and check on you, fighting the urge to go on a rampage and kill every godforsaken vampire in the world. Because he knows you wouldn't want to see him destroy himself.

You were special like that. Able to see the voice of reason in whatever situation you were in.

Except for now.

Edward is on his feet the moment the door squeals open. Winry steps out, looking shellshocked and grim all at the same time. She has blood on her hands. Your blood.

She looks at Edward and just as he meets her gaze, she bursts into tears.

"I'm sorry." She sobs and almost collapsed on the cobblestone ground before Alphonse rushes forward and catches her. Edward stands frozen.

"What do you mean?" Is all he manages, voice thick and caught in his throat. Winry takes a moment to compose herself before she drops the bomb on him.

"She's Turning."

"What the fuck do you mean?" Edward blurts as he bursts into the house where Granny is using a rag to clean blood from your face. You had a sheet draped over your body from the neck down, giving you some sense of decency. His coat is bunched up underneath your head as a makeshift pillow.

All the while you stare blankly at the ceiling. It's as if you don't even know where you are.

"Ed!" Granny chastises but it's half hearted. She's worried, Edward can tell. She doesn't mean it. Even if she hates the cursing, she's much too anxious to properly get after him.

Edward's shoes shake the floorboards as he makes it to your side. You're still cold, and as he reaches for you, Granny stops him.

"What are you doing?!" He snaps and she shakes her head.

"You'll hurt her. She's Turning. And silver hurts vampires." She reminds him gently and he freezes.

"What do you mean she's Turning?" He seethes and she points to a spot on your neck. He notices it for the first time now that you're cleaned of blood.

Two perfect little puncture marks with darkened purplish-blackish veins spider webbing their way out of the puncture site.

Vampire venom. Enough to kill a person by the looks of it. Or Turn them. Depending on the vampire's intention who bit you.

Edward feels his knees give out and he only stays standing because of his grip on the table. He picks up your hand with his flesh one and cradles it in his palm, staring at the missing fingernails on your hand.

How had things gone this wrong?

The screaming is what wakes him the next morning.

He had fallen asleep at the side of the table, flesh hand in yours. But when he wakes, your hand is gone and so are you. Instead, you're crouched in the corner, sheet thrown over your body as the sunlight streams in through the window.

Sunlight?

You're dying!

Edward grabs his coat and throws it over your smoldering form. Effectively extinguishing the smoke. You stay crouched, shivering as your skin heals itself within minutes.

Odd… Normally a few seconds in the sun would've healed within seconds. Maybe it was because you were still Turning? How long did it take to Turn someone again? He tried in vain to remember what his father's old vampire books had said, but nothing was coming to mind as easily as he would've hoped.

But that didn't matter right now.

He says your name gently, even as Winry, Alphonse, and Granny run into the room. You don't seem to hear him. Not in the traditional sense at least. You don't respond past a guttural snarl in his general direction. He crouches closer, getting down on one knee as he reaches for the coat covering your body.

Only for you to lash out and pin him to the floor.

"Ed!" Winry cries out as the two of you tussle and fight to gain the upper hand.

You're strong, inhumanly so. Your lips are curled in a putrid snarl and he can smell the venom emanating from your mouth. It smells like metal and rot and musk that he had associated with vampires ever since he had killed his mother when he was eleven. You attacking him was scarily remnant of that time, he remembered knocking his mother out and tying her up before lighting his house on fire after getting little ten year old Alphonse out of harm's way.

Her screams still haunted him to this day.

Just as your fangs went to close in around his neck, he managed to get his metal arm in between you and press onto your face.

The effect was immediate.

Your howls added to that cacophony of his mother's cries in his mind. You lunged, teeth snapping as you tried to rip his windpipe from his throat. Your eyes were as black as night with no stars in the sky and your nails had grown back, now blackened talons, cutting into his skin of his flesh arm.

Flesh bubbled and evaporated as the silver that made up his arm liquefied the skin on your face. It sloughed off in droves and dripped, burning his own skin as he made it to the muscle fibers of your face, and then bone. As bone began to crumble, Alphonse tackled you off of him and rolled into the wall.

He had never been one for fights. He'd much rather want to research if there was a way to turn vampires back into living humans. But thus far, he hadn't been successful.

You are on your feet, hissing and spitting like a venomous snake as you got to a crouch in the corner. You were still nude, no one having dressed you the night before as to not aggravate your injuries.

But Edward didn't care about that now.

Unconsciously his hand drifted toward the blade he kept in his belt. A short serrated knife that was great for sawing off a vampire's head. He kept a longer curved blade as well, but that was in his boot, he didn't have time to grab that.

He had to protect Alphonse and Winry and Granny. Even if it was against the love of his life.

It took some finagling, but somehow, the four of them managed to get you into Alphonse's work room.

It was in the back of the house, the walls smothered in hung holly, juniper, and garlic. You hissed and steamed, but healed quickly enough to where it was the only place they could keep you without you killing anyone else.

Edward watched as your body stitched itself together. Skin over muscle fibers over bone as your wounds mended and healed until your skin was as unblemished as the day you were born. Soon there was only a hand print etched into your skin as if he had smacked you instead of melted your face off.

"What do we do now?" Winry wheezed as they shut the solid holly door. You didn't bang on it, didn't move to his knowledge, it wasn't like you could escape either. There weren't any windows for you to break or get out through. It was completely cut off from the rest of the world.

"I'll consult my research and see if there's a way to turn her back." Alphonse said but deep down, Edward knew he was just trying to raise moral. Because you likely could never be turned back.

Because what equaled the value of a human soul that had been lost?

Two days later, Edward finally gathered the courage to visit you. He hadn't touched the door for those two long days, but had instead stationed himself outside the door to prevent anyone from going in.

He couldn't bear to lose anyone else.

But after two days, he couldn't wait any longer.

So… With his hand on his knife, he opened the door and stepped inside.

You were huddled in the center of the room, not touching any of the walls and had your arms wrapped around yourself and knees drawn to your chest. Your hair was plastered with sweat across your forehead and your nails drew rivulets of blood that healed over and over again from your arms.

You were withering away. You were a new vampire, and hadn't fed at all. You were dying.

Part of him wanted to offer you his blood. The emotional side of him that still loved you. But the logical side of him knew better.

Edward said your name softly, tenderly, as if you were still a human who was capable of love. You looked up with those eyes as black as tar and hissed with elongated teeth and fangs.

"Can you understand me?" He asks gently and you narrow your eyes as if something is getting through to you.

Could it be…?

And then…

"Kill me." You snarl and he freezes, almost dropping his knife in his hand.

"What?"

Inky red tears well up in your eyes and drip down your face like blood.

"Kill me. Please Ed." You no longer snarl or growl. You whimper and cry, shoulders beginning to shake as you hobble closer on hands and knees. He backs up against the closed door, his knife shaking.

"I—I can't." He stammers and you get to your feet then, coming closer until he holds up the knife.

"Eddy, I want to die." You plead and he feels his own tears burn his eyes.

Could he do it? Could he kill you?

As you continue to plead, he's reminder of Ellie. She hadn't wanted to die. But he had no choice. Now, he had a choice and a knife and your begging to spur him forward.

So… He made his choice.

Perhaps that wasn't quite the correct term. Because, for all intents and purposes, you were already dead. But you had begun to disintegrate from your fingers and toes; you could practically see the ash flaking away from your fingertips.

You supposed that was what happened when you were staked through the heart.

Ripping said stake out of your heart, black ichor oozes from your chest cavity, and you stagger toward what you hoped was an abandoned forest. It was well into the night now, the new moon shining no light onto the forest. The forest itself was dark, spooky, and looked desolate enough for you to crawl somewhere and die in peace. Because unless the world's best healer found you, that was what was going to happen.

You weren't particularly scared of death, what with being as old as you were. That left you a while ago.

Just as you collapsed at the base of an old tree, you hear something.

Footsteps.

Running footsteps.

You curse and try to curl into a smaller ball, you're much too weak to transform into a bat and fly away, plus the stake had been made of hawthorn, so that had sapped your strength as well. But moving only served to make you cough weakly. The footsteps stop nearby, and you hear a confused "hello?"

It's a young man's voice, perhaps the same age you would've been had you never been turned all those years ago.

You say nothing. Was it a Hunter here to finish the job? Or perhaps another angry city-dweller who had figured out your secret.

The urge to cough again rises within you, and you do your best to stifle the noise. But doesn't work, and you cough and gurgle until your dead, beating heart hurts in your chest. Well… As much as it could with a hole pierced through it.

The footsteps scramble down from the path into the bushes by the tree where you lay disintegrating. You can't feel your feet now, and your hands are likely going next. But all that is pushed to the back of your mind as whoever found you pushes through the bushes, and you see their face.

You had been correct, he was a young man, perhaps in his twenties or thirties, and had sweat beading across his forehead. His dark eyes were alight with worry, especially as he took in your injuries. If you had been coherent, you would've thought he was cute. He was dressed in workout clothes, but he rifled through his rucksack and pulled out… a book?

But everything went dark before you could fully see what happened.

Surprisingly, you open your eyes.

What?

Your eyelids feel like stone crosses weigh them down as you peel them open and realize you aren't out in the forest. Instead, you're on someone's mattress, tucked under the covers as if you hadn't just been staked through the heart. It's dark, but you can tell it's not because of the moon, but instead because of blackout curtains hung across all the windows. Sun peeks through the tops where the curtains don't quite cover.

Sitting up, you look around. The darkness doesn't do anything to hinder your sight; in fact, it enhances it. You can see the surroundings as if you were a human out in the sun.

The room is neat. The bed itself is nothing special either. There are a few miscellaneous cluttering items around, like some armor haphazard on a stand, a small bookshelf with some books lying on their sides, and a glass of water on the bedside table.

You pick it up and gulp it down, the coolness of the glass indicating that it hadn't been there long. But water had never tasted so good. You down the glass in a few gulps, but you don't take a gasping breath when you're done, like you'd see in movies. You don't need to.

It's one of the perks of being dead, you suppose. Not having to breathe and all that.

You slowly stand up, kicking the blankets off, stretching your hands, and curling your fingers before you pause.

Wait… What?

Glancing down, you realize your fingers and toes are back as if they'd never left. In fact, so is the hole in your chest.

What the f—

The door rattles as someone opens it, and you freeze.

He's tall, taller than the man who found you, and bulky. But perhaps around the same age as the man from before. His hair is a fiery orange, the same as his eyes, and he stares at you, baffled. He's dressed in a button-down and slacks as if ready to head into the office. Which seems almost comical, considering his sheer musculature and size.

Just as you ready yourself to flee, he turns his head to face down what you presumed was a hallway.

"Byung-Gyu! She's awake." He says, and you hear a scrambling as someone gets to their feet in a hurry.

The man from before peeks his head over his friend's shoulder, and a brilliant grin breaks out.

"So you're okay!" He cheers, and you blink.

"What?" The man—Byung-Gyu?—pushes past his friend and flips on the light to the bedroom.

Now that you aren't actively dying, you see you were right, he is cute. He has a dimple in his cheek, and his eyes sparkle with relief.

"You were pretty badly injured. I wasn't sure you'd make it even after I healed you." He explained, and you flinched.

Healed you?

Was he a Hunter?

Byung-Gyu notices your wince, and his smile falls slightly,

"You're okay now. We won't hurt you here." He says and gestures to the other man, "This is my friend Baek Yoon-Ho. He helped me bring you here." Baek watches you warily, not quite trusting you as of yet.

Which was fine by you; you didn't trust him either. You didn't trust either of them.

"Where is here?" You demand, and Byung-Gyu makes his way to the window,

Was he...

"My apartment. It's near the forest where I found you. Here! I'll show you!" He says and opens the curtains. The sunlight is blinding.

And the effect is immediate.

You feel your skin bubble and pop and boil as the sun rends flesh from bone. Skin all falls to ash, and you crash into the wall behind you as you scream and hold your face in your hands. The scent of burning flesh is acrid and overpowering. The room fills with smoke as you begin to disintegrate once again.

And the entire thing took a few seconds. But in those few seconds, the room was cast into darkness as Byung-Gyu threw the curtains closed again in sheer panic.

You writhe on the floor, trying to roll the flames out that had erupted across your body. They don't burn anything around you, confined only to your body as you try and smother them out.

But it's not working.

Are you going to die here? Because of some mistake a stupid human made?

At least… You're convinced you are until you feel something.

You're cloaked in a green bubble. Magic? Byung-Gyu holds a spell book in his hand, eyes glistening with worry, and Baek is coughing in the hallway. But as your injuries disappear, so does the smoke and ash.

You sit silently at the dining table after the whole ordeal as Baek and Byung-Gyu watch you carefully.

"What was that?" Baek demands, and you turn your glare onto him. He does a magnificent job at hiding his flinch, but you're not stupid. You're hundreds of years old and have had hundreds of years of studying body language. You can see in how he holds his shoulders and sets his jaw that he's nervous.

"What do you think?" You snap back, and Byung-Gyu holds his hands between you two as if to placate the monster and the lion.

"Are you a dungeon beast?" Baek asks, and you stare, now downright offended, at him.

"What are you, an idiot? I'm not a dungeon beast." You sneer and nearly stand to leave when you remember it's very much still sunny outside.

And you don't feel like dying any time soon.

"Are you a vampire then?" Byung-Gyu asks, and you don't say anything.

Your silence is damning.

The two men sit back in their seats, stunned at the prospect of there being something other. Something else other than themselves that could survive outside the Gates.

Hours pass.

You don't do much, but you feel the hunger start to set in. The sun had taken much of your energy, even after Byung-Gyu healed you.

And that wasn't good.

You say little, you don't move, all in an effort to conserve your energy. Because even though you might not trust the man who saved you, it doesn't mean you want him drained dry and shriveled up.

Baek had left soon after, saying he had an important meeting to get to.

Turns out he was the Guild Master of a Hunters Guild. Who would've thought?

He had given you a fiery look that burned like the sun.

"Don't hurt him." He had said, and you had just rolled your eyes,

"I'd rather not kill my savior before I can repay my debt." You had snarked back.

But soon enough, you were alone with Byung-Gyu. He was doing miscellaneous tasks, cleaning the kitchen, vacuuming up the ash you had left behind, but he stopped when he heard something.

More specifically, your stomach growling.

"Are you hungry?" He asks kindly, and you shake your head,

"I'm fine."

Byung-Gyu puts a hand on his hip and arches an eyebrow,

"Don't lie. I can hear your stomach from here." He says, and you grumble something incoherent before peeking carefully out of the window. It's almost sunset, but with your hunger like this, you aren't sure you'll last long enough to find someone to feed on.

After a few seconds, you realize he's still talking,

"I can make you something." He offers, and you shake your head,

"Vampire, remember? I can't eat human food." You explain, and he cocks his head curiously.

It's silent for a few moments, before, "I could offer you my blood." You choke on saliva at that.

"What? Why?! You barely know me!" You say incredulously, and he shrugs,

"I want to help. Now, do you want it or not?"

Your stomach rumbles in anticipation. The two of you go back and forth before you relent.

"You're impossible." You complain, and he gives you a cheeky grin that makes your breath hitch,

"Of course!"

You make Byung-Gyu sit on the couch before you do anything. You sit beside him and hold out your hand.

He stares in confusion, "What?"

You shake your hand in earnest, "Your wrist. Give it to me." He does so readily,

"Why not drink from my neck like they do in movies?" He asks, and you huff in annoyance,

"Because I have better control when I drink from a smaller artery. Plus, I don't want to kill you just yet." You say, and he nods as if accepting the explanation.

"That's much appreciated, thank you."

You take a breath even though you don't necessarily need it.

"Are you ready? This is your last chance to back out." You say, and he nods,

"Go ahead."

You lean down, press your lips to his wrist, and allow your fangs to extend and bite into his skin. The venom takes effect immediately, and he almost sags into the couch with a woozy "Oh wow, that feels weird."

But you suddenly don't care about that.

The blood is delicious. It's sweet and robust; you can feel your muscles filling out and heat coming back to your dead body. You can practically see the color return to your ashen skin and your synapses come alive like magic. Your vision improves, your hearing sharpens. It has been so long since you last fed. And it feels oh so good.

At least until you are quite literally blasted to the side and into the wall.

What?

You look up, dazed, and see Baek, a monstrous arm extended from his body, and his eyes glow a hazardous yellow as he snarls with elongated canines.

Was he a vampire? But how could he walk in the sun? He was a Hunter… Maybe transformation magic?

Byung-Gyu is slumped on the couch, pale as a ghost, and mumbling incoherently. He doesn't seem to be in pain, but the venom in your fangs likely took care of that. You're on your feet immediately, talons growing from your nails as you ready to fight this man. He does likewise, but pauses when he sees how… healed you look.

"What did you do to him?" He growls, and you shrug,

"He allowed me to feed on him. I was hungry." You reply, and he shakes his head vehemently,

"No way! Byung-Gyu isn't that stupid!" He barks, but freezes when Byung-Gyu manages to get his hand on his friend's arm.

"It's true. She needed help." He slurs, and his head lolls to the side. Maybe you took more than you thought? You think and feel a pang of disappointment. Normally, you were better than this…

Baek frets over his friend as you stretch your back and meander into the bathroom, where you rifle through the medicine cabinet.

Ah ha! Lucky for you, he had iron supplements. You grab the bottle, head back into the kitchen, where you fill a glass of water, and go back into the living area, where Byung-Gyu is getting more coherent.

"I'm fine, Yoon-Ho. Really, she didn't take that much." He tries and looks up as you approach him with the medicine bottle and water. You offer them a quiet, "I'm sorry for taking so much," and he simply grins,