chloe's corner

────୨ৎ────

info > masterlist > rules

>Info

𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑦 • ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑗𝑜𝑟 • 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑝 • 𝑔𝑒𝑒𝑘𝑒𝑑 • 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟 <3

>Masterlist

𝑐𝑦𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑝𝑢𝑛𝑘 • 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑜𝑛

𝑗𝑗𝑘 • 𝑚𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑚𝑖 𝑣𝑎𝑚𝑝!𝑎𝑢 • 𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒

𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠: 𝑎𝑟𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑒 • 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑘𝑎 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒

𝑏𝑔3 • 𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒

𝑟𝑑2 • 𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒

>Rules

just don’t be weird, mdni w/ nsfw works

𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲, 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

megumi fushiguro x reader + vampire au

slow burn, baby! don’t shoot the messenger ;) !! warnings: mention of dying animals, tw: n*oya zen’in (ik real scary), probably typos sorry babes.

𝐈. 𝐈𝐈.

The dying fire crackled, its soft, uneven rhythm pulling you from your dreams. For a moment, you only watched the shifting shadows crawl lazily across the walls before your gaze settled on Fushiguro. Barely touched by the firelight, he was already dressed. He’d been quiet and cautious. Like he hadn’t wanted to disturb the room more than necessary.

You didn’t even hear him move.

He adjusted his uniform in small, precise motions. Straightening his button-down, settling his overcoat, and fastening the clasp of his cloak. Nothing hurried. But, only when he finished did he pause before turning slightly toward you.

“…You’re awake,” he said softly. When you didn’t answer, he stepped closer and gently rocked your shoulder once.

“Wake up,” he murmured, quieter still. “We’re leaving soon.”

You pushed yourself upright, still caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. But, he was already crouched by the end of your bedding, pulling on his boots.

“I’ll get the horses,” he said after a brief silence. Then, almost as an afterthought, his hand paused on the leather laces. “You can take your time getting ready.”

A moment passed.

“I’ll be waiting for you outside.” Before you could protest, he was gone.

The room fell quiet once more.

You let yourself sink back against the mattress for a fleeting moment, staring blankly at the timber ceiling while gathering the will to move. The warmth trapped beneath the blankets tempted you to stay, but eventually you forced yourself upright.

The instant you threw the covers aside, the mountain air seized you.

The midnight chill bit mercilessly at your bare shoulders, stealing every trace of warmth as you hurriedly searched for your button-down. Fingers stiff from the cold, you dressed as quickly as you could, layering each piece with little care beyond keeping the freezing air at bay.

A quiet sigh escaped you as you settled before the modest vanity tucked into the corner of the room.

You smoothed your curls back into place, brushed imaginary wrinkles from your coat, straightened the drape of your cloak, then reached for the rest of your gear.

Satisfied enough, you slipped out of the room.

Your boots thudded heavily against the worn wooden floorboards as you descended the staircase, each step echoing through the otherwise silent inn. The common room, lively only hours before, now sat abandoned. Chairs remained pushed beneath tables, forgotten mugs rested where weary travelers had left them, and the dying hearth cast the only light across the empty space.

Everyone else had long since retired, leaving the inn wrapped in a peaceful stillness.

“Ready?” Fushiguro asked gently as midnight’s breeze spared neither of you any mercy. Without answering, you took your horse’s reins from his gloved hand and gave the animal a quick inspection. Your palm landed in a firm pat against her neck before your gaze drifted between the two horses.

Yours was white, speckled with black spots.

His was as dark as midnight.

You’d noticed Fushiguro’s preference for darker things long before now, but it still amused you that he’d put any thought into choosing a horse.

“Your left stirrup…” Fushiguro pointed out the issue. You looked down at the leather

“…Too short?” You questioned, unsure of what he saw. He kneels without asking, loosens the leather, adjusts it, then stands back up without further clarification.

“There.”

“Thank you.”

With one smooth motion, you swung yourself into the saddle, clipping your leather bag behind it. Fushiguro remained close enough to catch you should you slip, though he quietly mounted his own horse once it became clear you didn’t need the help.

The ride down the mountain was peaceful. Neither of you had quite shaken the heaviness of a warm meal, leaving the journey wrapped in comfortable silence.

You let your partner lead, trailing only half a pace behind as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. When the wind finally settled into something gentler, your curiosity won out.

“Did the stable hands name them?”

Fushiguro slowed his horse with a light pull of the reins until the two of you rode side by side. He glanced over, a faint crease forming between his brows. “No,” he said after a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh.”

You looked back toward the village, though all that remained was the snow-covered mountain the two of you had just descended.

“Yuuji likes naming the horses.”

For a brief moment, your thoughts wandered back to your partners in the capital, and with them came a quiet ache for the familiarity of home. Beside you, Fushiguro’s gaze flickered your way.

You’d called Itadori by his given name.

The observation lingered longer than he cared to admit. He looked ahead again before the feeling had a chance to settle, his expression unchanged as the conversation carried on.

“How is it?” he asked after a brief stretch of silence. At first, you frowned, unsure what he meant. Then it clicked. It had been your first time on horseback since training. Your hand drifted over the mare’s neck, fingers combing gently through her mane.

“I miss the dogs back home…” you admitted quietly. Fushiguro watched you from the corner of his eye. Your voice had softened, and before he realized it, his gaze lingered on your face a second longer than it should have. “But I like it,” you added, giving the mare another affectionate pat. “What about you?”

“…It’s quiet.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “I figured.” He glanced over at you, one brow lifting slightly.

“Why’s that?”

“You strike me as someone who prefers conversations with animals.”

A quiet laugh escaped you. “It explains why you always volunteer for the mountain patrols instead of staying in the Capitol.” He looked ahead again.

“…You’re not wrong.”

The admission earned another small laugh from you. Fushiguro didn’t answer after that. He simply let the sound settle between you, surprised by how easily it eased something in his chest.

Hours passed in relative silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of hoofbeats breaking into icy snow. The trees gradually thinned, giving way to open land. “We’re here.” Your head lifted. The breath caught in your throat.

A colossal stone barricade stretched across the horizon, disappearing into the distance in either direction. It towered over everything around it, its weathered surface climbing so high you had to crane your neck to see the top. Guard towers jutted from the wall at regular intervals, their silhouettes standing watch over the land beyond.

It was your first time being stationed this far from the Capitol. Nothing had prepared you for it.

The near by village wavered, almost abandoned and worn down by time, their buildings sagging beneath years of neglect. Families moved quietly between them, and local merchants began setting up stalls as you passed through in the early morning.

Then there was the wall itself.

Immovable. Unforgiving in its presence. And now, you were standing at its protective gates.

Reserved for royal soldiers and hunters, the entrance was guarded by a pair of watchmen stationed beside a heavy iron gate set into the stone. At Fushiguro’s approach, one gave a nod before the two men pulled the gate open with a long, protesting groan. You exchanged a glance with Fushiguro before swinging your leg over the saddle and dismounting.

“Check in with Okkotsu, you two.” The gruff soldier stepped forward, collecting the reins from both horses before leading them toward the stables.

Fushiguro retrieved both of your bags from the saddles with practiced ease, slinging one over his shoulder as he carried the other. He then tipped his head toward the open corridor.

“Come on.”

You fell into step beside him.

“Yuta Okkotsu is stationed here?” you asked, unable to hide the unease in your voice. Meeting someone of his reputation wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined spending your first day beyond the barricade.

“He only takes patrol assignments at or beyond the barricade,” Fushiguro replied.

Together, you passed through the interior. Unlike the villages outside, the fortress was alive with disciplined movement. Soldiers crossed the stone walkways carrying supplies, hunters returned from patrol with light snow clinging to their cloaks, and messengers hurried between offices without slowing their pace. All while, Fushiguro led you toward the command office.

“Okkotsu.”

His monotone greeting drew the hunter’s attention from the reports scattered across his desk.

The moment you stepped inside, the air shifted. Your chest tightened, as though the room itself had grown heavier. An involuntary breath escaped you as your hand instinctively found the cross hanging around your neck.

“Fushiguro.” Okkotsu looked up with an easy smile. “It’s been a while.”

“Only a few months.”

“Mm.” His gaze drifted to you. “You must be new to the barricade.”

You nodded, unable to ignore the pressure pressing against your skin. Your fingers absentmindedly rolled the cross between your thumb and forefinger. Yuta’s expression shifted with immediate understanding.

“…Oh.” He glanced toward the long sword resting across his desk.

“Sorry about that.”

He reached over, lifting it with practiced care before sliding the blade fully into its sheath. Ancient paper seals wrapped around both the hilt and scabbard, while strands of prayer beads clicked softly together as he secured it at his side. The suffocating pressure eased almost instantly. “You’ll get used to it,” he said apologetically before stepping around the desk and offering you his hand.

You introduced yourself before returning the handshake.

“Gojo mentioned you’d be joining one of my patrols eventually.” He smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” A small yet nervous laugh escaped you.

“I hope he only mentioned good things.”

“Of course.”

The answer came so naturally that you couldn’t tell whether he was being polite or completely sincere. Yuta turned toward the door, motioning for the two of you to follow.

“For the next rotation, you’ll be patrolling inside the barricade. Nothing too exciting.” He glanced over his shoulder with a small smile. “Just make your rounds from checkpoint to checkpoint and make sure no civilians get any bold ideas. You’d be surprised how often they try to sneak into the base.”

You nodded, taking in the influx of information, but paused when Yuta turned back toward the two of you. “For now, you both can rest. Or perhaps Fushiguro would like to show you around the barricade.”

Before leaving, Yuta brought his hands together in a single clap, the sound echoing faintly through the stone corridors.

“Your barracks are just past that door. I won’t be joining tonight’s patrol, though. The military has requested an audience with me.” The words were simple, but something about the way he said them made you glance up. Yuta’s expression remained polite, almost unreadable, but the brief pause before he continued gave away his reluctance. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

“…Now?” Fushiguro questioned the legitimacy of this. A Zen'in deployment falling behind schedule was practically unheard of. Yuta nodded at the question. “They’ve had the intelligence report for nearly a week.” You frowned, digesting the information shared between the two.

“Then why wait?” Briefly, you added your fair share of confusion. Yuta exhaled quietly. Giving both you and Fushiguro an alarming answer.

“That’s what I’d like to know.” You glanced between the two men.

“Shouldn’t we already be outside the wall?” A silence followed but, immediately disrupted by Yuta’s voice.

“Protocol requires both Royal Hunters and Military Hunters for any deployment beyond the wall.” Your brow furrowed.

“So we’re waiting for the military hunters?”

“We’ve been waiting.”

Megumi understood immediately. “…And now they’re calling you away.” Yuta gave a small nod. “Which means it’ll be even longer before a patrol can be approved.”

~

Time passed as Fushiguro showed you around the fortress-like wall, pointing out emergency exits, the chow hall, important offices, and the main gate. Before long, the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, leaving the moon hanging overhead. Large, pale, and unnervingly bright. Together, you began your nightly patrol, making your way between the inner checkpoints, keeping watch just as Okkotsu had instructed.

“Fushiguro?”

The steady rhythm of your horses’ hooves had lulled him into a quiet focus. At the sound of your voice, he glanced over, attentive despite his usual reserved expression.

“How long do you think Okkotsu’s meeting will last?” He adjusted the rifle resting against his back before answering.

“I don’t know.” A moment skipped. “Hopefully he’s already on his way back.”

You gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

Silence settled between you again, comfortable enough to let the horses fill it with the soft clatter of their hooves.

Then, unexpectedly…

“Do you miss it?”

You looked over.

“The Capital.” The question caught you off guard. Usually, you were the one filling the quiet with curiosity.

“…I do,” you admitted after a moment. “Everything’s so different out here.” Your eyes wandered across the endless stretch of stone and darkness beyond it.

“I feel lost… all the time.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly around the reins. “Just…” The word lingered between you. For a second, it sounded as though he might leave the thought unfinished altogether.

“…Stay close.”

It came out quieter than the rest, nearly swallowed by the wind.

When you looked at him, he’d already turned his attention back toward the barricade, as if the weathered stone deserved more of his focus than your reaction. A smile tugged at your lips, hidden behind the raised collar of your cloak. Something about those two words settled warmly in your chest.

Neither of you spoke again. You simply rode on, your horses keeping an even pace beside one another beneath the watchful glow of the moon.

The wind only grew sharper as the night wore on. It slipped between the gaps of your cloak and stung at your fingertips where they wrapped around the reins. You’d always opted for no gloves when handling your rifle. A decision you’d soon learn to regret. You flexed your fingers once, then again, hoping the movement alone would bring some warmth back into them.

No such luck.

You tucked your hands beneath your arms for only a second before returning them to the reins, pretending not to notice the chill. Beside you, Fushiguro’s gaze remained fixed ahead as he searched his satchel.

“…Here.”

He held out a pair of gloves, letting his eyes drift toward you. You slipped them on, the warmth settling around your fingers almost immediately. They were warmer than they had any right to be. For a moment, you looked down at them, flexing your fingers against the soft wool before your gaze drifted back toward him.

“…Thank you.”

Fushiguro only gave a small nod, his attention returning to the path ahead as though he hadn’t just spent the last several minutes quietly noticing every small sign that you were uncomfortable. You glanced down at the gloves again, unable to stop the faint smile that tugged at your lips.

“You brought an extra pair.”

“I did.”

The simplicity of his answer almost made you laugh.

Of course he did.

“You really do plan for everything, don’t you?”

“I try to.”

You studied him for a moment, watching the way he rode with the same steady focus he carried into everything else. Even now, his attention moved between the path ahead and the walls surrounding you, always prepared for whatever might come next. It was such a familiar habit that you couldn’t help the quiet amusement that settled over you.

“You know, sometimes I think you’re a psychic. Always ready for anything” His eyes shifted toward you briefly, a small flicker of curiosity crossing his expression.

“Is that a bad thing?” He asked.

You shook your head, looking ahead again. “No. It’s just very...you.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. The horses continued along the snowy path, their hooves breaking the silence between you.

Then, quietly, he said, “You were hiding your hands.” You looked over, caught off guard. “I was?”

“You kept pulling them away from the reins.” A faint warmth reached your face, though the cold still lingered around the edges.

“You noticed?”

His gaze remained forward, his answer coming as calmly as ever.

“You’re not as subtle as you think.” You couldn’t help the small smile that formed. Instead of a response, you turned your attention back toward the path ahead, letting the silence settle between you once more.

The fortress stretched endlessly around you, the towering stone walls disappearing into the darkness above. Snow had begun to gather lightly along the edges of the path, crunching beneath your horse’s hooves with each steady step.

The cold no longer felt quite as sharp. Maybe it was the gloves. Maybe it was the fact that your heart hiccuped every time your eyes meandered in Fushiguro’s direction. You adjusted your grip on the reins centering your sporadic thoughts, eyes following the faint glow of lanterns in the distance.

Then, your horse stopped. The sudden halt nearly pulled you forward in the saddle, and you immediately tightened your grip, brows knitting together.

“Easy…”, You tried to soothe the riled up horse as she trotted in place, anxious of the unknown. She shifted beneath you, breath leaving its nostrils in a cloud of white against the freezing air. You looked around, searching the darkness beyond.

“What is it?” You spoke moreso to the animal than your partner. Beside you, Fushiguro’s horse reacted the same way, shifting beneath him as a low, uneasy sound left its throat.

Still, the darkness offered no answer.

“Might be wolves…or coyotes.” Not even Fushiguro sounded convinced by his own explanation.

You didn’t answer.

The uneasy shifting of both horses filled the silence instead, their ears pinned back as anxious whines escaped them. Beneath you, your mare pawed nervously at the snow, her muscles wound so tightly you could feel every tremor through the saddle.

Beside you, Fushiguro had already unslung his rifle, one gloved hand steadying the reins while the other kept the barrel trained toward the darkness beyond the wall. His eyes swept slowly across the tree line, searching for movement.

There was nothing. Nothing except the wind.

Then almost immediately your horse dipped beneath you. Before you could react the mare pulled back, sending you into a quick plummet straight into the icy snow. You could only watch as your horse cried in a panic, galloping away toward the mountains.

As the world slowly settled back into place, you heard Fushiguro calling your name.

By the time your vision cleared, he was already off his horse. His stallion shifted uneasily beside him, tossing its head as he kept a firm hold on the reins with one hand while extending the other toward you.

“C’mon.”

The urgency in his voice cut through the ringing in your ears. You reached for him instinctively.

The moment your hand met his, he pulled you upright. Before your legs had the chance to find their balance, his hands came to your waist, lifting you toward the saddle in one smooth motion. You caught yourself against it, swinging your leg over with his support before settling into the seat. Satisfied you were steady, he pressed the reins into your hands.

“Stay on the horse.”

The order was calm, but left no room for argument. You swallowed, reaching over your shoulder to pull your rifle free from its sling, resting it across your thigh as your eyes searched the darkness with his.

Only then did he step away.

His own rifle was in his grasp again almost immediately, his attention fixed on the churned patch of snow where your horse had been standing moments before. The wind swept across the path, carrying nothing but silence.

For a long moment nothing happened. The silence was almost convincing. Then the snow shifted. It was subtle. Barely enough to notice.

Fushiguro’s shoulders stiffened. You saw it too.

“…Fushiguro.” Your voice came out quieter than you’d intended.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he took another careful step forward, lowering his rifle as the barrel tracked the disturbance. The snow shifted again.

This time, several feet to his left.

Then another. Your breath caught this time. One disturbance became two. Then three. The ground around him seemed to come alive, snow rolling in uneven waves as though something beneath it was clawing its way toward the surface.

“Fushiguro!” Your voice called with more urgency this time. But, before the warning could fully leave your lips, a pale hand burst through the frozen earth.

Another followed.

Then another.

Long, bloodied fingers clawed desperately at the snow, dragging gaunt bodies upward one after another. Frost clung to their pale skin as darkened eyes blinked against the moonlight, adjusting to the world above them. The stallion beneath you let out a sharp, panicked scream.

At the same moment, Fushiguro fired.

The sound echoed through the dead of night, the silver bullet tearing through the darkness before burying itself deep within the nearest creature’s chest. The impact sent it staggering backward, stopping its advance toward you. But the others kept coming. Megumi's horse reacted before you could.

Its entire body lurched beneath you, muscles tightening as it backed away, nostrils flaring while more figures continued to pull themselves from beneath the frozen ground around Fushiguro.

You tightened your grip on the reins, trying to steady the animal, but the stallion was already overwhelmed by the unfamiliar scent, the gunfire, and the movement surrounding him.

Fushiguro’s head snapped toward the sound and for the briefest moment, your eyes met. “We need to lea—”

The stallion reared before he could finish.

You clung to the saddle as its front hooves cut through the air before crashing back into the snow. The reins burned against your gloves as you fought to keep your balance, your heart pounding against your ribs.

“Easy, boy.”

The command came out strained, swallowed by the chaos around you. The stallion refused to listen. With another terrified cry, it wheeled around and bolted into the darkness, snow exploding beneath its hooves as it carried you farther from the area.

“Quit it—”

You pulled desperately at the reins, but the stubborn animal only pushed forward harder, following the patrol route it knew best. You twisted in the saddle, looking back over your shoulder. The distance between you grew with every passing second. Fushiguro remained where you’d left him, rifle raised as the creatures closed in around him. For a moment, you could still make out his silhouette beneath the moonlight.

Then the darkness swallowed him.

And the stallion carried you toward the final checkpoint.

The journey back was brief.

Still shaken, you barely gave yourself time to catch your breath before explaining everything to the soldiers stationed at the checkpoint. Your words came out uneven, rushed, each detail met with increasingly grim expressions as they exchanged looks with one another.

Within moments, the entire base and nearby villages were alerted.

A warning horn echoed through the fortress walls, deep and commanding as the sound carried into the night. Lights flickered one by one as soldiers were pulled from their stations and the quiet routine of the checkpoint was replaced with sudden movement. You were directed back toward the patrol route immediately.

This time, you weren’t going alone.

A member of the royal guard accompanied you, his sword drawn and his expression tense as the two of you hurried back toward the place where you had last seen Fushiguro.

Your dominant hand held tightly to the reins while your other remained wrapped around the crucifix resting against your chest, the metal striking softly against your armor with every movement.

You told yourself he was fine. You had to. The thought barely had time to settle before something cut through the air.

A gunshot split through the air. Fushiguro’s horse reacted before you could.

The animal cried out, its body collapsing beneath the force of the shot as the world tilted violently forward. You barely had time to brace yourself before you were thrown from the saddle.

You hit the snow hard on your side.

The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, the cold biting through your clothes as you struggled to regain your bearings. For a moment, all you could hear was the ringing in your ears and the heavy, uneven breathing of the animal beside you.

Then you realized you couldn’t move.

The horse had fallen with its weight trapping your right leg beneath its body, pinning you against the snow at an awkward angle. You pushed against the ground with your free hand, trying to kick yourself loose, but the angle and the animal’s weight made every attempt nearly impossible.

Panic began to settle in. Not because you were helpless. Because you were exposed.

Your eyes lifted toward the sound of approaching footsteps. The one responsible stood several feet away.

Unlike the creatures you had encountered before, this vampire looked almost untouched by decay. His skin was pale, but his figure was fuller, stronger. He carried himself less like a beast and more like someone who had simply been.

A lord, perhaps.

Dark markings covered his arms and face, remnants of a life that belonged to a time before these lands were swallowed by the vampires. A criminal from a forgotten era. Someone whose name had likely survived longer than the world he came from.

A crooked smile tugged at his lips as he tossed the silver rifle aside. Another hunter’s weapon…

Your stomach tightened.

You kicked weakly against the fallen horse, trying to free your leg before he could reach you, but the movement only earned a quiet chuckle from the vampire.

Slowly, he continued forward. Your fingers brushed against the familiar wood of your rifle. Just inches away.

With a desperate reach, you grabbed it and pulled it toward yourself, the cold metal pressing against your gloves as you aimed.

You fired.

The silver bullet struck deep into his shoulder. And did nothing. For a moment, you could only stare. The vampire looked down at the wound almost curiously before lifting his gaze back to you.

The color drained from your face.

Because the weapon that had protected every hunter before you had failed.

The creature did not hurry. That was the first thing you noticed. It should have.

A vampire should have been desperate. Starving. Feral. At the least angry. That was what you had been taught to expect. But he moved through the snow with a calmness that unsettled you more than any scream could have.

Your breath came unevenly as you pressed your shoulder harder into the frozen ground, the weight of the horse trapping your leg beneath it. Your fingers tightened around the rifle, though the tremor in your grip betrayed the confidence you tried to force back into yourself.

You had fought before.

You had seen things crawl out of the darkness.

You had watched men twice your size freeze when faced with the undead. But you…

You were not supposed to be afraid. But your body did not care what you were supposed to be.

Your breaths came sharp between clenched teeth. Your heart pounded so loudly you wondered if he could hear it.

And judging by the faint curve of his mouth, he could. The vampire stepped closer, boots sinking into the snow as he studied you. Not like prey. Like something unexpected.

“You’re still aiming at me.” His voice was quieter than you expected. That was worse. You swallowed, refusing to lower the rifle.

“And I’ll shoot again, should you come closer.”

A small pause.

Then his smile widened.

“Interesting.” Your grip tightened. The silver bullet remained lodged in his shoulder, the wound barely more than an inconvenience. You knew what that meant. You knew exactly what you were looking at.

A lord.

But something about him felt different.

Older. Far older. The outdated ink markings were a dead giveaway. The stories never described them like this. They were meant to tolerate silver to an extent. It was supposed to weaken him. Why is he still standing?

“You know what I am,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

Your silence answered for you. His eyes dropped briefly to the rifle in your hands, then back to your face.

“A hunter.” The word carried a strange weight. Almost nostalgic.

“You people have changed.” He was bored. The mundane tone he had only represented a fraction of the utter disappointment he felt. “Dumber, weaker, softer…”

The snow shifted beneath his feet as he stepped over the fallen horse. You adjusted your aim despite the pain shooting through your leg.

“Go ahead, shoot me, hunter.”

He stepped closer. Your body betrayed you before your mind could stop it. A fearful tremor escaped your quivering lips, your breath catching as he continued forward without hesitation.

His chest pressed firmly against the barrel of your rifle, his frozen heart aligning perfectly with the weapon pointed at him. Yet he didn’t flinch. His smile widened, revealing fangs that were impossible to mistake. There was something taunting in the way he looked at you, as if he was waiting to see whether you would follow through.

For half a second, you hesitated. Then instinct took over. Your hand moved quickly, reaching for the small dagger attached beneath your rifle. In one swift motion, you pulled the blade free and aimed for his neck.

But before the silver could reach him, his hand shot forward. His fingers closed around your wrist. The strength behind his grip was immediate, bone-crushing pressure radiating through your arm as he held you in place effortlessly. Eventually, you’d drop the blade, defeated. “Please,” You whimpered. Such a pathetic, human response.

That was when he saw it.

The crucifix.

A symbol as old as time itself. A symbol his mortal self had once worshipped and the very same symbol that had become tied to the curse that condemned him.

For the first time, his grip loosened.

He released your wrist, not out of mercy, but out of fascination. His attention shifted entirely to the chain resting against your chest, fingers reaching for the symbol that hung from your neck.

“Do you still believe your god will save you now?” His voice carried no anger. Only curiosity.

His thumb brushed against the deep red rubies embedded within the crucifix, studying the piece with an almost unfamiliar sense of wonder. The silver caught the moonlight, gleaming against his pale skin as if it belonged to another lifetime.

A lifetime he had buried long ago.

“He won’t.” The words were quiet. Certain. His gaze lifted from the crucifix back to you before he yanked at it, the fragile chain breaking from your neck. “Tell me, hunter… how many prayers do you think were answered before the world became what it is now?” You laid there frozen in time. Like prey, once he tossed your necklace aside.

“Perhaps he’ll answer your final prayer as you beg for salvation.” A slow, cruel smile stretched across his face.

Before you could react, his fingers tangled into the roots of your hair, forcing your head back and exposing the vulnerable stretch of your neck. Pain shot through your scalp as he pulled you closer, his fangs glinting beneath the moonlight.

“Be sure to cry,” he murmured. He leaned closer, his voice brushing against your ear.

“The heavens have always loved the sound of a desperate prayer.”

As though he had commanded them, hot tears spilled freely down your face. You struggled hopelessly beneath his grip, hands clawing at his wrist as your free leg kicked wildly against the horse in a desperate attempt to escape.

“No… no—”

The words dissolved into incoherent pleas, your voice breaking between ragged breaths as he lingered over your exposed neck, savoring every frantic struggle and futile attempt to free yourself.

Then the vampire hissed. Warm blood splattered across your skin. His grip vanished and at once, you dropped unceremoniously into the unforgiving snow, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs. Before you could gather yourself, the thunder of hooves surrounded you.

Military warhorses.

You forced yourself to look. The vampire was no longer standing over you. He was engaged with a Zen’in.

Naoya. Military Hunter.

A dagger rested firmly in his grasp, its hilt wrapped neatly in weathered scrolls and aged prayer beads. Each strike carved into the vampire with a violent hiss, the wounds searing black where your silver had barely slowed him.

The lord took a single step back, raising his hands in feigned surrender as an entire cavalry formed behind the Zen’in, rifles trained squarely on him.

“Clever hunter…”

His crimson eyes drifted to the deep sears marring his skin. He traced one of the wounds with his thumb before letting out a quiet hum of amusement.

“I’ll be sure to remember you… Zen’in.” He practically growled the family name. For the briefest moment, surprise flickered across Naoya’s face. Then it disappeared beneath his usual cocky grin.

“Running away so soon, demon?” Naoya lifted a fist, silently ordering the soldiers behind him to hold their fire.

“I’ve seen enough.”

The lord’s smile lingered for only a moment longer before he turned, disappearing into the white curtain of the blizzard as the remaining vampires melted into the storm after him.

Naoya made no attempt to follow. Only once the last of them had vanished did he turn his attention to you. He spoke your name as though the very syllables tasted sour.

“Where’s your knight in shining armor?”

One brow lifted as he stepped over “your knight’s” fallen horse. You ignored him, struggling instead to free your trapped leg. “Not bit, are ya’?”

Without waiting for an answer, he caught the collar of your cloak and jerked it aside, exposing your neck. His eyes swept over the unbroken skin before he gave a single nod.

“Good.”

Bracing himself, Naoya lifted enough of the horse’s deadweight for you to wrench your leg free. The moment you cleared it, he let the carcass fall back into the snow with a heavy thud.

He dusted his hands together as though the effort had inconvenienced him.

“You can tell everyone that Naoya Zen’in saved you from the Ancient One.”

Pssssssst, i’m writing a lil drabble abt higuruma very close to being finished. okie, toodles.

love,

chlo.

𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲, 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

megumi fushiguro x reader + vampire hunter au

warnings: slow burn, don’t hate the player hate the game

𝐈. 𝐈𝐈.

The train rolled forward with a steady, mechanical rhythm, steel wheels grinding against frozen tracks somewhere beneath the quiet hum of the whistling winds.

“Last civilian stop! South City!”

The ticket keeper’s voice cut through the car like a blade.

You jolted awake.

Around you, the last remaining passengers stirred at once. Bundling coats, gathering bags, rising with the weary coordination of people who had done this too many times to feel anything about it anymore. Cold air leaked in every time the doors shifted open at the next stop, carrying the faint crunch of snow and iron.

Across from you, Fushiguro hadn’t moved.

edit: everyone liking better follow ts goin out TONIGHT