cbinotes

The worst part wasn't the silence.

It was the hope.

Every time your phone lit up.

Every time footsteps echoed down the apartment hallway.

Every time someone knocked on your door.

For weeks you convinced yourself there had to be an explanation.

Johnny wouldn't just disappear.

Not Johnny.

Not after everything.

Then one afternoon you saw someone entering his apartment.

A tall man dressed in black.

A skull mask covering his face.

You almost laughed from relief.

Finally.

Finally, there was an answer.

Johnny had to be inside.

You knocked immediately.

The masked man opened the door after several moments.

You could see boxes stacked throughout the apartment behind him.

Furniture missing.

Drawers emptied.

Pieces of Johnny's life disappearing into cardboard.

And suddenly your relief vanished.

"Where's Johnny?"

The man's eyes changed.

Just for a second.

Something flickered there.

Pain.

Guilt.

Something you couldn't identify.

"He isn't here."

His voice was rough.

Quiet.

You hated it immediately.

"What do you mean he isn't here?"

You tried looking past him.

Searching for some sign of Johnny.

His jacket.

His laugh.

Anything.

The apartment looked hollow.

Empty.

Dead.

"When's he coming back?"

You asked.

The masked man didn't answer right away.

And that silence became your answer.

Your stomach dropped.

Because suddenly all the unanswered texts.

All the ignored calls.

All the waiting.

Started fitting together into something ugly.

"Oh."

The word came out smaller than you intended.

"Right."

The stranger said your name.

And that somehow made everything worse.

Because Johnny had talked about you.

Of course he had.

You laughed.

A horrible sound.

Thin and broken.

"That's embarrassing."

The masked man's hands tightened around the box he was carrying.

"I actually thought something happened to him."

You swallowed.

"I spent weeks worried."

Another laugh.

"I thought maybe he was hurt."

The stranger looked like he wanted to say something.

Desperately.

Like there were words clawing their way up his throat.

But they never came out.

Because Johnny had secrets.

And apparently one of those secrets was that he could leave without saying goodbye.

"So that's it?" you asked.

"He's just gone?"

The silence answered again.

You nodded slowly.

Trying to ignore the pressure building behind your eyes.

Trying to preserve what little dignity you had left.

"Tell him thanks."

The masked man flinched.

Actually flinched.

"For what?"

You smiled.

The kind that hurts.

The kind that doesn't reach your eyes.

"For letting me think I mattered."

Then you walked away.

Before the tears could start.

Before the stranger could say anything else.

Before you could humiliate yourself further.

The door closed behind you.

And for a long time Simon Riley stood motionless inside Johnny's apartment.

The box in his hands suddenly feeling impossibly heavy.

Because Johnny had cared.

God, he'd cared.

Simon remembered all the times Johnny talked about you.

The stupid smile he'd get whenever your name appeared on his phone.

The way he'd spent months trying to figure out how to officially ask you out.

The plans he'd had.

The future he'd wanted.

And now there was a woman across the hall who believed she'd been abandoned.

Who believed she'd been forgotten.

Who would probably spend years hating a man who had spent his final months falling in love with her.

Simon considered telling you.

For one brief moment.

He considered running after you.

Explaining everything.

Telling you that Johnny hadn't left.

That Johnny hadn't chosen this.

That Johnny's last text draft still sat unfinished in his phone.

That there had never been a goodbye because he'd never gotten the chance to give one.

But he couldn't.

Some truths died with soldiers.

So instead Simon finished packing the apartment.

Box after box.

Memory after memory.

Until there was nothing left.

Across the hall, you deleted Johnny's number that night.

Blocked it.

Deleted the photos.

Deleted the messages.

Deleted every piece of evidence that he'd ever existed in your life.

Then you cried until morning.

Not because he was dead.

You never knew he was dead.

You cried because you thought he'd chosen to leave.

And somehow, that felt worse.

Because death would have meant he wanted to stay.

But abandonment?

Abandonment meant he didn't.

And years later, long after the grief had settled into something quieter, you'd still occasionally catch yourself looking at men with mohawks in crowded places.

Still glance at your phone when it rang unexpectedly.

Still wonder what you'd done wrong.

Never knowing that somewhere in a box of Johnny's belongings sat a small velvet ring box.

Unopened.

Unused.

With your name written on a folded piece of paper tucked inside.

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fake-marriage!simon who keeps acting like your husband even when nobody’s watching. opening doors for you without thinking. guiding you through spaces with a hand hovering near your waist. positioning himself between you and strangers automatically. instinct more than performance.

fake-marriage!simon who genuinely doesn’t understand why you think there should be a difference between “pretending” and private moments. to him, consistency matters. “i’m not playin’ a character,” he says one night when you point it out. “just doin’ it properly.” and somehow that answer feels more intimate than if he’d admitted it was real.

fake-marriage!simon who gets under your skin because he treats this arrangement with the same seriousness he treats everything he refuses to lose. controlled. focused. unwavering. there’s nothing careless about the way he handles you.

fake-marriage!simon who starts lingering just a little too long in the quieter moments. thumb shifting softly against your back when nobody else would notice. voice lowering around you in ways reserved only for you. standing closer than necessary because somewhere along the line, distance stopped feeling natural to him.

fake-marriage!simon who hears people comment on how real the marriage looks and doesn’t correct them immediately. just keeps his hand resting against you while he says, quieter than expected, “that’s because it is.” not emotionally, maybe. not officially. but real enough that the line between pretending and wanting has started disappearing for him.

fake-marriage!simon who eventually admits, in the calmest voice imaginable, “everything i care about becomes a mission.” and the terrifying part is realizing he means protection when he says it. responsibility. permanence.

fake-marriage!simon who never intended to get attached. this was supposed to be practical. temporary. controlled. but somewhere between memorizing your routines and instinctively reaching for you in crowds, he stopped treating this like an assignment and started treating it like something he couldn’t afford to fail.

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which is honestly hilarious considering how much he pretended to complain in the beginning.

the thing about paul is that he runs hot—literally and emotionally.

his body temperature is always warmer than normal, making him the perfect person to cuddle with whether he'd admit it or not. over time, you start seeking him out automatically whenever you're cold, and paul secretly loves it.

there's something deeply satisfying to him about being the person you instinctively look for.

the person you want close.

the person you trust enough to relax around completely.

he won't say that out loud, obviously.

instead he'll roll his eyes when you crawl into his lap.

then immediately tighten his arms around you before anyone else can see.

and while he acts like you're the clingy one, the pack starts noticing something interesting.

paul is rarely the one initiating affection in public.

but he's always the one keeping it going.

you'll rest your head against his shoulder for a few minutes, and somehow an hour later he's still holding you there.

you'll reach for his hand, and suddenly he's the one refusing to let go.

you'll lean against him during a bonfire, and before long paul has an arm wrapped around your shoulders like he forgot there was ever another way to sit.

eventually, everyone realizes the truth before paul does.

he likes your clinginess because it gives him an excuse to be just as affectionate back.

because beneath all the sharp edges, quick tempers, and sarcastic remarks is someone who loves feeling wanted.

someone who loves knowing you're choosing him.

and on the nights when it's just the two of you, curled up together in the quiet, paul's favorite moments are the ones where you're practically wrapped around him.

your head tucked beneath his chin.

your arms around his middle.

your legs tangled together.

safe.

close.

his.

he'll never admit how much those moments mean to him.

but the way his arms automatically tighten around you whenever you settle against him says more than words ever could.

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workplace!barry who checks case details twice if your name is attached, not because he doubts you, but because he wants nothing bouncing back on you. your work matters to him. your reputation matters to him.

workplace!barry who never frames it as helping you. it’s always about the team, the case, the workflow. but somehow you benefit every time.

workplace!barry who looks a little embarrassed if you thank him directly, rubbing the back of his neck and saying, “it was nothing, really.” even though it very much was something.

workplace!barry who doesn’t need credit, doesn’t need praise — just the quiet reassurance that you’re okay, that your day went smoother, that you’re not carrying everything alone.

and if you ever start doing a little better, looking a little less tired, smiling a little more?

he notices that too.

he just smiles to himself and keeps being there in the background, steady as ever.

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which is almost ridiculous considering you’re a vampire.

you could probably lift him with one hand if you wanted to.

yet sam still instinctively steps in front of you if something feels off, still reaches for your hand while crossing rough trails, still checks if you’re okay after things happen before remembering you’re literally harder to hurt than he is.

if anyone points it out, he gives them a look.

“doesn’t matter.”

because as far as sam is concerned, vampire or not, you're his person.

and once sam decides someone belongs beside him, that loyalty runs deep enough that species stops mattering a lot less than people think it would.

⸻

jared cameron

jared’s first reaction to finding out you’re a vampire is absolutely not graceful.

he just stares at you.

then—

“you’re kidding.”

silence.

“wait—seriously?”

more silence.

“seriously?”

because out of all the things he expected from you, ancient supernatural creature with fangs was nowhere on the list.

once the shock wears off though, his brain immediately goes somewhere completely different.

the jokes.

the endless, endless jokes.

“so if i cut myself chopping vegetables, are you gonna look at me weird?” “if we watch vampire movies together, do you get offended?” “can you turn into a bat or is that false advertising?”

you get maybe three minutes of peace before he thinks of another question.

but underneath all of that, jared actually adjusts faster than people would expect.

he’s wary at first, of course. the pack instincts don’t just disappear overnight. there are moments where he catches himself tensing automatically around you, moments where his wolf side and him are fighting each other a little.

except then he starts paying attention.

he notices how careful you are.

how you always seem aware of the space you take up around others. how your eyes flick away if someone gets hurt, not because you’re tempted, but because you don’t want anyone thinking the worst of you. how there’s this tiny sadness in you whenever people look at you differently after finding out.

and jared hates that.

because suddenly it’s not a vampire.

it’s you.

you, who laugh at his stupid jokes. you, who sit with him for hours while he talks about absolutely nothing. you, who make him feel normal in a life that stopped being normal a long time ago.

so eventually he stops treating you like something dangerous.

instead, he starts treating you like you.

which also means he becomes ridiculously comfortable around you.

way too comfortable.

he’ll throw an arm over your shoulders without thinking, grin at you while saying, “c’mon, vampire, keep up,” even though you could outrun him in a heartbeat.

and honestly? he kind of loves how ridiculous the two of you look together.

because there’s something funny about him acting protective over someone who could probably bench press a truck.

still doesn’t stop him though.

if anything, it just makes him more stubborn about it.

⸻

paul lahote

paul’s reaction to finding out you’re a vampire is... not pretty.

he smells you before he fully understands it.

that sweet scent hits him, his entire body goes rigid, and suddenly every instinct in him is screaming danger. his temper already runs hot on a normal day, so adding wolf instincts and vampire instincts crashing together? absolute disaster.

“you’re what?”

and the worst part is that he’s angry at himself as much as he’s angry at the situation.

because he already liked you.

he already knew your laugh, already knew the way you rolled your eyes at him, already knew the tiny habits he pretended not to notice. and now suddenly he’s being told that the person he’d started caring about is supposed to be the enemy?

paul hates that.

hates it because now his emotions are all over the place.

for a while he gets frustrated really easily—not because of you, but because his wolf side is constantly reacting before his brain catches up. he’ll accidentally get snappy, then immediately feel bad about it afterward. there are days where he keeps a little distance because he’s trying to get his own instincts under control.

except you’re patient.

you don’t push him. don’t get angry when he needs space. don’t act offended when he struggles.

and somehow that makes everything worse for him.

because now he feels guilty too.

then one day something clicks.

he realizes he’s watching you laugh at something stupid jared said and he has this moment of:

...oh.

oh, i’m gone.

after that?

paul becomes paul.

meaning the attitude comes back, the teasing comes back, everything goes back to normal—except now there’s this protective streak attached to it.

which is hilarious considering you're a vampire.

he’ll still pull you closer if things get crowded. still step in front of you if he thinks something’s wrong. still grab your hand to guide you somewhere.

and every single time someone points out that you could literally destroy him if you wanted to—

“okay? and?”

because paul doesn’t care.

you’re still you.

and if anyone expects him to stop caring because of what you are, they’re gonna be disappointed. very disappointed.

probably loudly disappointed.

⸻

jacob black

jacob’s reaction is immediate and loud, like everything about him.

he finds out, and there’s this split second where his brain just stops trying to be normal about it.

“you’re a vampire.”

not a question. more like he’s trying to force reality to confirm it.

then his jaw tightens, his posture shifts, and suddenly you’re looking at the part of him that was raised to see your kind as the enemy.

it’s not personal at first. it’s instinct. it’s history. it’s every story he grew up with crashing into the fact that you’re standing right in front of him.

and jacob hates that conflict instantly.

because underneath the shock, there’s also the part of him that already knows you.

the part that remembers you laughing at him, teasing him, sitting next to him like it was normal. the part that doesn’t line up with the “monster” label his brain is trying to force.

so he gets stuck in between.

for a while, he’s tense around you. not cruel, not fully distant—but guarded. like he’s constantly waiting for something to make sense again. there are moments where he’ll say something sharp and immediately regret it, then go quiet like he’s annoyed at himself more than anything else.

and then he watches you actually be you.

not a threat. not a story. just you.

you don’t act like you’re better than anyone. you don’t push. you don’t try to prove anything. you just… exist in a way that’s steady and calm, even when people look at you like you don’t belong.

and jacob starts to unravel a little.

because it doesn’t fit.

it doesn’t match what he was taught.

it doesn’t match what he feels when you look at him like he’s not a war he has to fight.

eventually, it becomes impossible for him to keep treating you like an enemy.

it just… stops making sense.

and when jacob decides something doesn’t make sense anymore, he’s not subtle about changing his mind.

he still argues with it at first. still mutters things under his breath. still gets frustrated when pack instincts flare up unexpectedly.

but then he starts doing the jacob thing.

he shows up anyway.

he walks you home anyway.

he stands between you and anything he doesn’t trust anyway.

“i don’t care what you are,” he says once, like it’s something he had to force out of himself to make it real.

then, after a pause:

“…you’re still you.”

and with jacob, that’s about as close to acceptance as it gets—loud, stubborn, and completely unwilling to let anyone else decide what you are to him.

⸻

quil ateara

quil takes the news in a very specific sequence: confusion, disbelief, and then an immediate attempt to process it like it’s just another unusual fact about you.

“you’re… a vampire.”

he says it slowly, like repeating it might make it sound less insane.

then he squints a little.

“…okay, that actually explains a few things.”

he doesn’t explode like some of the others, and he doesn’t fully shut down either. quil is weirdly good at staying in that middle space where he’s cautious but still you-focused rather than fear-focused. his instincts are there, sure, but he doesn’t let them run the conversation.

at first, he watches you a lot more carefully than usual. not in a hostile way—more like he’s adjusting his mental image of you in real time. there’s a quiet alertness to him, especially around situations where his pack instincts kick in, but he tries not to make it obvious.

and then something shifts pretty quickly.

because quil notices how normal you are with him.

you still talk to him like before. still respond to his jokes. still sit near him like nothing fundamental has changed in the way you treat him.

and that messes with his head in a good way.

quil is observant, and he starts piecing things together fast. you’re careful. controlled. you don’t cross boundaries. you don’t treat people like prey or play into the fear people project onto you. you’re just… present.

and he starts relaxing.

slowly, but noticeably.

eventually, quil settles into something surprisingly easy around you. he still has moments where instinct flares and he stiffens for half a second, but he shakes it off faster each time.

and instead of distancing himself, he does the opposite.

he stays close.

quil becomes the one who treats you like you’re still part of the group dynamic first and a “vampire” second. he includes you in conversations without hesitation, bumps his shoulder lightly against yours like it’s normal, and keeps the tone light even when other people are still figuring things out.

he’ll still joke about it sometimes—because he’s quil—but it’s never sharp.

“don’t bite me,” he’ll say casually if you’re standing too close, already grinning like he expects you to roll your eyes.

and the funny thing is, he means it less every day.

⸻

embry call

embry’s reaction is instant confusion first, then a very long pause where you can practically see his brain trying to refile everything he knows about you.

“…you’re a vampire.”

he says it flatly, like if he says it without emotion it’ll make more sense.

then he squints at you.

“…okay. that actually explains the quiet footsteps thing.”

he’s not the type to explode or get overly dramatic about it. embry goes quiet for a bit, more observant than anything, watching how you move and how you interact with everyone like he’s recalibrating his understanding of you in real time.

there’s caution there—he’s still a wolf, still bound to instincts that don’t love the idea of vampires. but embry is also grounded in a way that keeps him from jumping straight to hostility. he doesn’t like reacting before he understands.

so he watches. listens. waits.

and what he sees doesn’t really match the stories.

you’re not reckless. you’re not aggressive. you don’t push into spaces where you’re not wanted, and you don’t act like you’re above anyone. if anything, you’re careful in a way that makes him start to relax without realizing it.

embry also notices how you handle him specifically.

you don’t treat him differently after he finds out. no weird tension, no sudden distance, no expectation that he should either fear you or prove something to you. you just… stay the same.

and that’s what starts to shift things.

because embry is observant, but he’s also steady. once something doesn’t actively feel like a threat, he stops feeding it with tension.

so over time, the alertness fades.

not completely—he’s still a wolf—but enough that he starts acting like himself around you again.

he slips back into easy conversation. starts joking with you like before. bumps your shoulder lightly when he walks past, like nothing has changed. and when pack instincts flare, he’s more likely to adjust his position than create distance.

he’ll still throw out dry comments sometimes, just to acknowledge the weirdness of it all.

“still not used to that,” he’ll mutter once, glancing at you with a faint exhale, “…but you’re not exactly what i expected.”

and that’s embry’s version of acceptance—quiet, cautious, but real.

⸻

leah clearwater

leah doesn’t react right away—not because she’s calm, but because her first instinct is to evaluate, not explode.

then she hears it clearly.

vampire.

and there’s a long, flat silence where her expression hardens in a way that makes it obvious she’s already thinking through every worst-case scenario.

“of course you are,” she says finally, like the universe personally did this to annoy her.

leah is not trusting at first. not even close.

it’s not just instinct—it’s history, experience, and the fact that her life has trained her to expect things to go wrong. so she keeps distance. she watches you closely. she doesn’t soften her posture around you the way some of the others eventually do.

if anything, she’s blunt about it.

she doesn’t pretend she’s fine with it just to be polite.

but she also doesn’t escalate it unnecessarily.

leah is practical about danger, and what stands out to her is consistency. you don’t act unpredictable. you don’t try to push past boundaries. you don’t behave like someone looking for trouble.

and that slowly starts to matter more than the label.

she also hates how much she notices that.

because she doesn’t want to adjust her worldview again. she doesn’t want another complicated thing in her life she has to emotionally file away.

but you don’t make it complicated in the way she expects.

you make it… steady.

you talk to her normally. you don’t flinch at her tone. you don’t try to win her over or tiptoe around her moods. you just treat her like a person, which annoys her in the most inconvenient way because it works better than anything else.

over time, her distance starts to shift—not disappear, but soften at the edges.

she still teases you, but it’s dry and grounded. she still watches you carefully, but it’s less like she’s waiting for something to happen and more like she’s just… paying attention.

and if someone else brings up what you are in a way that feels disrespectful, leah shuts it down fast.

no discussion.

no debate.

just a sharp look and a “drop it.”

because for all her resistance, once leah decides you’re not a problem, she doesn’t let other people turn you into one either.

⸻

seth clearwater

seth finds out and just… pauses.

not the tense kind of pause most people have. more like his brain hits a small internal reset while he processes the information without immediately assigning it fear or hostility.

“oh,” he says after a moment, blinking. “…you’re a vampire.”

there’s no accusation in it. just confirmation, like he’s checking a fact he didn’t expect but is willing to accept.

what comes next is curiosity before anything else.

seth has always been the most open of the pack, and that doesn’t change just because the word “vampire” enters the conversation. he looks at you with interest, not suspicion, like he’s trying to understand your world rather than judge it.

he asks questions—but careful ones.

not about weaknesses or threats, but about you. how things feel, how long you’ve been around, what your day-to-day is like. there’s no edge to it, just genuine interest and a kind of quiet respect for the fact that you’re standing right there trusting him with the truth.

there is instinct underneath it, of course. seth is still a wolf, still part of a system built on protecting his people.

but with him, instinct doesn’t turn into fear very easily.

it turns into awareness instead.

he adjusts quickly. not by distancing himself, but by being thoughtful. he pays attention to how others react around you and subtly makes space when needed, like he’s smoothing out tension before it can build.

and the most noticeable thing is that he never stops treating you like a person first.

not a category. not a threat. not a story.

just you.

he still smiles easily around you, still talks like nothing fundamental has changed, still sits near you without hesitation once he decides the situation is safe enough.

and if someone else gets weird about it, seth is usually the first to step in—not aggressively, but firmly.

“hey,” he’ll say, calm but clear, “that’s not fair.”

because for seth, acceptance isn’t something dramatic.

it’s just… deciding you belong in the same space as everyone else, and acting like it was always obvious.

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