Oh, it's Cosmo!

the first time you confessed that his blood smelled… different, he immediately became suspicious.

“what the hell does that even mean?” he’d cross his arms, convinced you were joking.

when you quietly admitted you were struggling not to think about biting him, his face turned bright red before he barked at you to stay five feet away.

he spent the next hour pretending it didn’t bother him while secretly wondering why you specifically wanted his blood.

when he eventually learned that vampires don’t simply “choose another person” when they’re attached to someone, everything changed.

he hated the thought of you suffering because you refused to feed from strangers, and while donnie insisted there had to be another solution, raph made up his mind on his own.

one night he simply walked over, rolled up the sleeve on his forearm, looked away with burning cheeks, and muttered, “just… get it over with.”

he tenses every single time. every muscle in his body locks the moment your fangs touch his skin. his hands curl into fists, his jaw clenches, and he lets out a low grunt through gritted teeth.

not because he regrets it—but because it hurts, and he’s never been particularly good at hiding pain. even then, he never once tells you to stop before you’ve had enough.

despite acting tough, he watches your face afterward more than his own wound. if your skin regains some color, if your eyes lose that hungry look, if you seem healthier… that’s enough for him.

he’ll quietly wrap a bandage around his arm while pretending he doesn’t notice you looking guilty.

he’d absolutely tease you afterward. “that enough for ya, vampire?” he’ll smirk, trying to lighten the mood because he knows you’ll apologize at least five times.

inside, though, he’s oddly proud that he could help you in a way nobody else could.

leo isn’t thrilled about it. he’s worried about infections, blood loss, your self-control… basically everything.

raph argues with him constantly about it. “i know what i’m doin’.”

he doesn’t, not really, but he’d rather deal with leo’s lectures than watch you slowly weaken because you refuse to feed.

your biggest fear is accidentally taking too much. one night you’re so hungry that you force yourself to stop halfway through, shaking so badly you nearly cry.

before you can apologize, raph cups the side of your face with one huge hand. “look at me.” you do. “you stopped. you were in control.” hearing him say it so confidently helps quiet the panic in your head.

he’s ridiculously protective immediately after feeding. maybe it’s because he’s slightly weaker for a little while, or maybe it’s because he knows you’re emotionally exhausted afterward, but he becomes even more possessive than usual.

one arm around your shoulders, keeping you close while glaring at anyone who gets too near, silently daring them to say something.

he absolutely refuses to let anyone shame you for what you are. if someone calls you a monster, his temper explodes before yours ever can.

“she ain’t hurtin’ anybody.” his voice drops into that dangerous growl everyone recognizes. “she’s got more self-control than most humans i’ve met.”

over time, feeding becomes strangely intimate rather than frightening. instead of treating it like a burden, raph starts preparing for it.

he’ll sit somewhere quiet, remove the wraps from his forearm, take a steady breath, and nod toward you. no dramatic speeches. no hesitation. just complete trust.

for someone as guarded as raphael, that’s about the closest thing to saying i love you.

one evening you quietly ask him why he keeps doing this when it hurts every time. he shrugs at first, avoiding your eyes like the question annoys him.

after a long silence, he finally mutters, “…because i can’t fix what you are…but i can make sure you don’t gotta go through it alone.”

then, embarrassed by his own honesty, he immediately tells you to stop looking at him like that before he changes his mind. even though you both know he never would.