Puncture Wounds
Vampire Hunter x Vampire Reader
TW: Mass Murder, Stalking, Bodily Harm to Reader, COMICAL amounts of blood
The first time that you saw him, you thought his beauty could rival the angels.
You had just returned from foraging in the woods, and now stood on the outskirts of the town. His presence to the village was impossible to ignore. It was as if his sudden appearance was willed by god himself. Your village was close-knit and cold to outsiders, but his simple, soft smile dissolved the initial hesitation that many of your companions held.
But it was apparent that this man was no angel. He couldn’t be. The rosary dangling from his neck may have been holy, however, he was anything but.
It wasn’t until your eyes raked over his body that you noticed it. Amongst his slender figure, his fingers were wrapped around a blood-soaked wooden stake, and a well-used crossbow hung across his back like the yolk of an ox. It sat heavily upon him, seeming to bring a certain heaviness to his character.
You could have screamed, warned them about the danger, alerted anyone at all, but your cowardice held you back. Instead, your clamped mouth shut involuntarily, and you took a silent step backwards.
The man's sweet, wordless smile lingered nearly sickeningly as he pointed a slender finger towards a group of you and parted his lips to speak.
“Kill them.”
It happened faster than you could react. A group of men charged out of the forest, brandishing similar weapons and attire, heavy crossbows slung across their shoulders, their dark clothes transforming them from mere men to reapers, harbingers. Within moments, the women and men who had raised you, who had taught you to speak with your heart instead of your teeth, fell to the ground. You watched as they crumbled to dust before they even hit the grass.
He was just as ethereal as he was horrifying. Even the screams of your entire coven failed to tear your attention away from him.
You didn’t know when the fires started, but the beautiful, starry night sky was now a juxtaposition to the sight of buildings collapsing into ash. Despite the smoke clouding in the air, the moon reflected itself upon the river, a shivering mirror, the banks now streaked with red. From your hiding spot in the forest, you can vaguely see the way his face is illuminated by the flames surrounding him, the fire lapping at the ground beneath him.
You could try to justify his actions if you were a violent group. One of creatures that hunted virgin women and fair maidens, but you weren’t. You were a part of a small coven that swore against the hunting of humans. Instead, you chose to sink your teeth into deer and other forest creatures that you were bestowed, in your isolated homeland.
The folklore stories recount time and time again the hollow, emotionless demeanor of a vampire. They say that once turned, all that’s left is a cold, empty husk, soulless, destructive. It was all a lie, as far as you and the members of your coven were concerned. Panic shot through your mind. If you still had a heartbeat, you’re certain it would be racing through the walls of your chest.
You slap your hand over your mouth to cover your horrified yelp, watching as he grabs the crossbow and fires an arrow into the chest of a fleeing young girl, who couldn’t have been older than 16. As he tears the arrow from her, you expect to see some sort of remorse on his face. A slight grimace at the blood dribbling down her back, a frown to signal that he at least understands that he took the life of a living being- but you can find no sign of one.
He simply continues to smile.
The massacre continues indefinitely. The only thing you can do is make yourself smaller and continue to drown out the noise as best as you can, shrinking yourself down in an attempt to camouflage yourself. You cover your ears and shut your eyes so tightly that it hurts. As you sink to the ground, leaning against a tree, you can’t stifle your sniveling.
It’s not selfish for you to hide away instead of fighting back, it’s self preservation…
You aren’t selfish, you aren’t.
You don’t know how long you had been hidden, but after what felt like eternity, the noises began to become hushed. When you remove your hands from your ears, the only thing left is the crackling of flames, the embers drifting into the void of night.
You open your eyes, and crane your head around the tree, preparing to flee… only to find another pair of eyes meeting your gaze.
He had seen you.
You quickly stumble backwards as the man approaches you, seemingly at an unconcerned gait. Your hands scrape against rock and dirt as you scramble to get up.
“Ah, there’s one left.”
He says it as if you’re nothing more than mud on his boot, venom dripping in his voice.
The moment he says it, you feel your legs regain their capabilities. It’s as if a switch has been flipped- you run, and you don’t look back.
From the woods, where you weave between the trees and try desperately to avoid stumbling over your own feet, you still manage to hear his distinct voice.
“Good. I like a chase.”
While there are far less animals for you to hunt in the city, there are certainly more hiding spots.
You feel like a walking stereotype sticking to the shadows and finding solace in the nighttime. It’s not who you were, who you were raised to be.
All you could think about was how you desperately missed your village. Maybe god had sent that hunter after you- your existence was entirely contrary to the idea of holy. A fanged demon, an abomination in the eyes of humanity.
You had tried to replicate your former life. Going from village to village, giving a closed mouth smile and eating your meat as rare as possible without creating suspicion, however, you were always discovered. By him, no less.
His skills were unmatched, which is why it would take him less than a month to find you everytime. You lost track of how many days had passed since the first time he found you. Each time he was close to getting you, you’d manage to weasel your way out.
It was only until the fourth time you were running through the woods that you actually tried to talk with him.
“I-I…” You grip tightly onto a tree and launch yourself forward. His footsteps were close behind as you screamed out, not stopping to catch your breath. “I’ve never hurt anyone! Please! Just leave me alone!”
You were met with a simple, uncaring response.
“I know.”
That was the last time you tried to plead with him.
Another time, you attempted to fight back.
Amidst another chase, this time within city limits, you’d hid between two brick buildings. As he passed, you jumped on him.
He was clearly caught by surprise. It wasn’t a graceful move, and you landed on top of his back and began clawing at anything you could grab. You felt skin tear as you opened your mouth near the back of his neck. A single bite was all it would take, to end the chase and get some sort of revenge for all the time he’d taken from you.
You tried to imagine him as a deer, something to sink your fangs into as fast as possible to avoid prolonging the animal’s suffering. But you hesitated.
He used that hesitation to his advantage. He grabbed at your sides and flung you straight onto your back. The force of being slammed onto the rough concrete was so great that you were sure that if you were alive, you would have been winded instantly, or greatly injured.
He places his boot on your chest, digging his heel into your ribs for good measure.
His breathing is slightly labored, and you’re surprised to see a small head of sweat on his forehead. “You’re breaking your promises.” He chuckled. “I thought you only hunted animals?”
You grunt at the pressure change, watching as he brandishes his stake. “You might as well be one!” You spit. “Do you expect me to take my death lying down? So I can be another trophy to hang on your wall?”
“Well, preferably yes.” He chuckles, leaning towards you. “It would make this much easier on me.” His demeanor shifted into a more serious expression. “Now, hold still.”
As he angled the wood towards your chest, there was only one thing you could think to do. The one tactic you had been taught, passed through generations of vampires that could get you out of this situation.
You kicked him directly in the groin.
The reaction was instantaneous. His hold on you loosened as he crumpled to the ground like foil. After a sharp inhale, a string of unintelligible curses left his mouth and his once arrogant expression was now contorted in pain. As tempted as you were to give him another kick, this time to a preferably more vital organ, you decided fleeing would be your best bet. Before he could begin to recover, you had already scurried away into the sanctity of the darkness.
After that, you decided that your original strategy would be best. You kept running. Time and time again, you would narrowly slip through his fingers, escaping a second death by mere moments. You were restless, tirelessly wandering, never able to settle for more than a couple of weeks. And even during those few weeks, you lived on high alert, always checking over your shoulder, always covering all of your bases. Being hunted for sport was never an easy job, but someone had to do it, you supposed. Unfortunately, that someone had turned out to be you.
It couldn’t always work though, you were bound to eventually fail. It appears today, your luck has run out. Maybe it was the heavy rain that obscured your vision, or the fact that you’d let your guard down after weeks of silence, or, the most likely culprit, the arrow lodged into your right calf, severing your nerves.
Your vision blurred as you crawled through the grass, dirt and grime caked under your nails as you desperately tried to push forward, futilely. He doesn’t even attempt to stop you, easily catching up to you with a languid stroll.
You can hear his voice thrumming in your ear from above you.
“What? You’re giving up?” He clicks his tongue, looking visibly annoyed. “God, that’s disappointing.”
He squats down to your level, grabbing a fistful of your hair. You wince in pain, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, as he yanks your head upwards to get a better look. He tilts your face back and forth, pondering for a moment. After what feels like an eternity, he dramatically throws his head back and gives you an exasperated sigh.
“I’m supposed to kill you now. It’s the natural end to a hunt after all.” He purses his lips as frustration flashes on his face. A short silence follows, and he loosens his grip on your hair. “But that’s not fair to me, is it? You’ve caused me so much trouble, after all. I don’t think a quick death suits you, does it?”
“What the hell are you-“
“Ah, ah!” He cuts you off. “Be patient, I wasn’t done.” He chastises you, as if you’re just a petulant toddler, not a grown woman seconds away from a stake through the heart. “I think, instead, I deserve a prize for winning our little game.” He taps his chin, as if pondering on a decision. But you know what he’s about to do, you know he never truly had to think about it. There was only one thing he could have ever wanted.
“I think I’ll keep you.”