⸻

Max Fried:

Max would notice immediately, but he would not react in a huge way right away.

He'd look at you for a second longer than usual, quietly taking in the change before stepping a little closer. Not loud, not dramatic just observant in that very Max way.

"You cut it."

If it was a really dramatic change, he'd probably study your face more than the haircut itself, because that's what would get him most how much more visible you are now.

And if you asked if he liked it, he'd probably make you wait a second just to annoy you.

"Yeah."

A pause.

"You look really pretty."

And because he's Max, that would be the part that actually gets you the fact that he says it so plainly, like it's obvious, while still looking at you like he's more affected than he wants to admit.

He'd probably touch a piece of it once, almost absentmindedly.

"It looks good on you. Really good."

⸻

Ben Rice:

Ben would have one of the most immediately readable reactions.

He'd look up, blink, and his whole face would soften right away.

"Oh, wow."

Not bad wow. Very much good wow.

He'd smile almost instantly and walk closer without even thinking about it.

"You really cut it."

Ben feels like the type to ask before touching it, because he'd want to but he'd still be sweet about it.

"Can I?"

And once his hand is in it, he's done for. Smiling, staring, clearly trying to process how different you look.

"No, you look so pretty."

"Like…really pretty."

If you seemed even a little nervous, he'd reassure you immediately.

"I'm serious. It looks so good."

Then, because he's Ben, he'd immediately care more about whether you feel good in it.

"Do you like it?"

And if you said maybe, he'd just smile and shake his head.

"Well, I love it."

⸻

Jazz Chisholm Jr.:

Jazz would notice, obviously, but not in the way where he's standing there analyzing layers or acting like he suddenly became a hairstylist.

He'd look at you, clock that something changed, and just shrug a little like,

"Oh, you cut it."

If you asked, "Do you like it?" he'd probably look at you like that's a silly question.

"Yeah, you still fine."

Then with a grin, "You think I was about to say no?"

Jazz feels like the type who cares way more about your energy than the hair itself. If you walked in feeling yourself, that's what he'd react to. Not the inches gone.

And if you kept fishing for a bigger reaction, he'd probably laugh and say,

"Baby, it's hair. You still look good."

⸻

Giancarlo Stanton:

Giancarlo would not react loudly, but he'd react.

You'd walk in, he'd look up, and there'd be that pause that extra second where he says nothing because he's taking in the whole picture.

Then he'd stand up.

That's how you'd know it got him.

He'd come closer, touch the ends or the back of your neck, and if it exposed more skin your neck, your shoulders, your collarbone he'd absolutely notice that too.

"That's different."

Which might make you nervous for half a second until he looked at you again and added, lower,

"Looks good on you."

"Real good."

Giancarlo feels like the type to be more affected by the confidence of it than the haircut alone. Like the second you walk in carrying yourself differently, he notices.

"You look sexy."

Very calm. Very direct.

⸻

Anthony Volpe:

Anthony would notice and think you looked good, but he would not be passionately invested in the haircut itself.

"Oh, you cut it."

If you asked, "Do you like it?" he'd say yes right away, but not in a way that sounds like he has strong opinions about the hair specifically.

"Yeah, of course."

"You look pretty."

Anthony feels like the type who would care more about whether you like it than about the haircut itself. So his follow up would probably be: "Do you like it?"

And if you said yes, that would pretty much settle it for him.

He's not the guy who's gonna be obsessed with the chop. He's the guy who's gonna think you're pretty regardless and then move on.

⸻

Jasson Domínguez:

Jasson would be quieter about it at first.

He'd look at you, take a second to figure out what changed, and then that little smile would show up.

"Oh. You cut your hair."

He feels like the type who doesn't always react loudly when he really likes something. Instead, he'd get more focused. More attentive. He'd step closer, touch the ends, glance at your face again, then smile like he already knows you know it looks good.

If you asked, "What?" he'd probably say something annoying and flattering at the same time like,

"You know it looks good."

And if you tried to act unsure, I think he'd get more direct.

"No. It does."

"You look really pretty."

Jasson feels like he'd adjust fast and then act like this version of you makes too much sense for him to even miss the old one.

⸻

Aaron Judge:

Aaron would notice, but he would not make a huge deal out of it.

You'd walk in, he'd take a look, and he'd just go,

"You cut your hair."

Very matter-of-fact.

If you asked whether he liked it, he'd answer honestly, but calmly.

"Yeah. It looks nice."

He's not the type to act like a haircut changed the earth's rotation. Aaron feels more like the type who loves you consistently, so whether your hair is long, short, curled, straight, whatever, his reaction would mostly be "you're still you, and you still look good to me".

If you kept pressing him for more, he'd probably smile a little and say.

"You want a bigger reaction than you're gonna get."

Then kiss your forehead, "You look beautiful. I'm just not dramatic."

⸻

Cody Bellinger:

Cody would make it feel easy.

He'd look up, grin, and go, "Oh, wow."

And you'd know right away it was a good wow.

Cody feels like the type to get up, touch it, smile again, and say exactly what he means without making it weird.

"I like it."

If it was really dramatic, he might laugh a little just because he's surprised by how different it is.

"You look like a whole different person."

Then, because he'd know how that sounded.

"In a good way."

He'd definitely be one of the more casually reassuring ones.

"You look really pretty."

He'd make it feel safe to have done something bold.

⸻

Carlos Rodón:

Carlos would notice, but I don't think he'd care in some huge way.

He'd probably glance at you and go,

"Oh, you cut your hair."

And that would be it at first.

If you asked whether he liked it, he'd be honest, but casual.

"Yeah, it looks good."

Carlos feels more like the type who might joke about how much you cut off or how different it is, but not because he's deeply attached to your hair more because he likes reacting to things.

So if you were expecting him to be all emotional over it, he probably wouldn't be.

He'd just look at you, shrug a little, and say,

"Baby, you always look good. I'm not doing a whole reveal over a haircut."

Then probably kiss you and keep it moving.

⸻

Oswaldo Cabrera:

Oswaldo would react with his whole heart.

You'd walk in and he'd light up immediately.

"Ohhh!"

"You look so pretty!"

Big smile, big energy, immediate hype.

Oswaldo feels like the type who would absolutely want to see it from every angle, would definitely touch it gently, and would gas you up so hard that any nerves you had would disappear within thirty seconds.

If you did something dramatic, he'd love that you did something bold.

"No, I love this."

"You look beautiful."

"So, so pretty."

He'd make you feel like getting the haircut was the best idea you've ever had, and he'd be so sincere about it that you couldn't even roll your eyes properly.

⸻

Amed Rosario:

Amed would be more subtle at first, but not hard to read if you know him.

He'd look at you, pause, and give that small nod like he's taken in the change and made a decision.

"Okay."

Which, from him, would already mean something.

Amed feels like the type to not gush immediately, but to show how much he likes it by staying focused on you a little too long, touching it once, and then saying something simple that lands because he doesn't waste words.

"It looks good."

If you asked him to elaborate, he'd probably give you a look like you were asking for too much and then still do it.

"It really does."

A beat.

"You look good, mami."

That would be more his speed lowkey, confident, direct.

And what would feel most like him is that he'd get more visibly into it later than in the first second. Once the surprise wore off, he'd keep noticing it. Keep touching it. Keep looking at your face a little longer.

⸻

Ryan McMahon:

Ryan would react with dry honesty.

You'd walk in, he'd look up, and after a beat he'd say,

"That's definitely different."

And because Ryan feels like the type to not sugarcoat the surprise factor, you'd probably have to wait a second before he clarified.

Then he'd look at you again and go,

"Looks good, though."

Very straightforward. Very normal about being surprised by a big change.

Ryan feels like the type who wouldn't oversell it, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't mean it. If he kept glancing at you after, or touched the ends while you were talking, that would tell you more than a huge speech would.

And if you teased him for not being dramatic enough, I think he'd just look at you and say,

"What, you want me to lie? You look really good."

Plain, but real.

⸻

Trent Grisham:

Trent would care the least in the most Trent way possible.

He'd look at you, notice it, and go,

"You cut it."

That's it.

If you asked, "Do you like it?" he'd probably give you a look and say,

"I did not have prior attachment to the old one, so yes."

Which is such an annoying answer that you'd have to laugh.

Trent feels like the type who would genuinely not care much about the haircut itself because, to him, it's still your hair and you still look like you. He's not gonna act like it's life-changing.

If you kept pushing for more, he'd probably sigh and give you a real answer just to get you to stop.

"Yes, it looks good."

Then after a beat:

"You look good. The hair is fine."

Which is honestly the most Trent version possible.

⸻

Cam Schlittler:

Cam would be one of the sweetest.

You'd walk in and he'd just stop for a second, smile slowly, and go,

"Whoa."

Not performative. Not dramatic. Just genuinely surprised.

Cam feels like the type to react very sincerely. So if you asked whether he liked it, he wouldn't make you work for the answer.

"Yeah."

"You look really good."

And if you seemed even a little unsure, he'd get even more earnest.

"No, seriously."

"You look really pretty."

"It really looks good on you."

He'd probably ask if you were nervous before you did it, if you liked it, if it felt weird getting used to it because he feels like someone who'd be tuned into whether you were okay, not just whether the haircut was pretty.

And once he got used to it, I think he'd quietly get very into it.

⸻

José Caballero:

José would make it into a full reveal.

You'd walk in and he'd react like he just witnessed a before-and-after transformation in real time.

"Oh my God."

"Wait, wait, wait."

He'd absolutely be loud, dramatic, delighted, probably moving closer immediately to inspect it like this is breaking news.

José feels like the type who'd make you spin, ask why you suddenly look like a totally different person, and hype you up at a volume that makes the whole room aware you got a haircut.

But underneath the performance, he'd genuinely love it.

"No, this is good."

"This is really good."

"You look gorgeous."

And if you laughed at him, he'd just double down.

"What? You do."

"You look sexy too, don't play with me."

He'd make it impossible for you to feel insecure about it for even a second.

⸻

Spencer Jones:

Spencer would have a really sincere reaction.

You'd walk in, he'd look up, and he'd pause for just a second too long not because anything is wrong, but because he's genuinely thrown off by how different you look.

Then he'd smile.

"Whoa."

That would probably come out before anything else.

Spencer feels like the type to be a little stunned at first and then very straightforward once you asked what he thought. Not overly slick, not too dramatic, not trying to tease you just for the sake of it.

"You really changed it."

He'd probably step closer, look at it properly, maybe brush a piece back or touch the ends carefully, still taking it in.

And if you asked whether he liked it, I don't think he'd hesitate long.

"Yeah."

"You look really good."

If you were nervous, he'd pick up on that fast and get even softer about it.

"No, seriously."

"You look amazing."

"Really pretty."

He'd be more quietly affected than loud about it, but you'd absolutely be able to tell he was very into it.

⸻

taglist (lmk if you want to be added!!): @diorjtrk @wildlaufey3 @graceeehhhh @hotwheels1108 @you-got-me-star-lost-16 @thelunarbar @hockeygirlyyyy @quinnintheabyss @peachmango-kombucha @boybandbaby @divinedelusional @hockey-racing-fubol @melsgf @anonymousie @refinedanimal @spooky-newt @selv1sh @twistedprincess-92 @earthlings0000

⸻

MASTERLIST

"you know you can talk to me, right?" you sit up in bed, watching bobby pace around the room. the dim lighting creates a glimmer on his bare chest. his veiny hands are digging into his blonde strands, pulling forcefully with his eyes squeezed shut.

you’ve never seen him like this. so paranoid, so anxious. you didn’t think the night would take a turn like this.

───

you and bobby had went out to a small greek restaurant around the corner from your flat earlier that night. you ordered the steak, and he insisted on paying. he had made the night special for you, keeping his hand in yours while you walked to the restaurant and taking you walking around the boardwalk because you had been too early for your reservation. 

after the wine poured, so did the longing looks and the laughing coming easily. and then the teasing touches, his fingers on your thigh and your eyes set on his lips.

you two had nearly rushed out of there, his shirt shrugged off in the doorway as your lips moved against his. your cheeks went pink, laughing all the way towards the bedroom. when he pressed you back against the bed and lowered his lips to yours, you were stuck in a haze, forgetting everything that happened earlier that night. the only thing on your mind was him.

but when his lips hit your neck, and he sucked the skin gently, you gasped. all of a sudden, like he had a revelation, he pulled back, his face disappearing from your view. your eyes fluttered open, brows knitting together in confusion. "bobby?" you asked, your voice still shaky from the rush of it all.

he's already at the door, which scares you. how did he move so quickly from one place to another? how did he do it so quietly? his hands are in his hair and he's shaking his head, whispering to himself, mumbles you can't hear no matter how quiet it is in the room.

"did i do something wrong?" you ask hesitantly, sitting up on your elbows. he turns around, his blue eyes gone darker, more fierce. "it's not you." he grumbles, trying to keep his expression the same.

you purse your lips together in disappointment. he hasn't been talking to you lately. and you want to tell yourself it's not what you think it is. even though it might be.

"you know you can talk to me, right?" you sit up on the bed fully, watching bobby pace around the room. the dim lighting creates a glimmer on his bare chest. his veiny hands are digging into his blonde strands, pulling forcefully with his eyes squeezed shut.

you’ve never seen him like this. so paranoid, so anxious. you didn’t think the night would take a turn like this.

you pull a few messy strands of hair behind your ear, taking a large gulp. the best thing to do right now is give him space. "i don't like that we keep doing this," his voice is shaky but he tries his hardest to steady himself.

you look down at his sweating palms, his knuckles going white as he grips the edge of the vanity in your bedroom. ever since he's told you he isn't human, something far more dangerous than your kind, you didn't run away. you stayed right there and accepted him. and out of all the confessions he's ever had to admit to, that reaction scared him the most.

you didn't flee. no, instead, you reached for his hand. even though he tried to pull away, you reached further and touched his cheek. and what he asked you broke your heart; the way you could see he wanted you so badly but stopped himself in fear of hurting you.

"don't you think im a monster?" he asked tenderly, your hand still in his. you shook your head and kissed his temple, guiding him down onto the bed next to you. that day was the day he told you everything. and since then, you haven't questioned anything more about his nature. he has feelings just like you, and he knows how to control them, (majority of the time).

tonight, however, his fear has returned. "we don't have to keep doing this." you offer, your voice small. he whips his head around, his eyes narrowing at you curled up in your sheets, waiting for his return.

"you're scared you'll hurt me, but you won't. i know it-" you're cut off with a sharp chuckle coming from across the room. your eyes return to him, his back still turned to you. his jaw is clenching and his fingers are tightening on the white, marble vanity.

"i will hurt you." he says. then louder, "don't you see?" his tone is sharp which makes fear boil inside you. but it's just him. he's no monster.

when you don't reply, he's realized you're shaken up. he takes a deep breath, releases his grip on the marble and carefully moves back towards you. his silver chain sways across his glistening chest as he arrives back in your space.

his body towers over you as he grabs your chin, angling it up to him. "i can't have you." he whispers, looking deep in your eyes.

pain flickers over your expression. "why not?"

"because tonight-" he cuts himself off, a clench to his jaw again. you're tired of going around in circles. "what, bobby? say it." you encourage him, sick of secrets and constant fears that stop you from loving him the way you want to.

he takes a deep breath. "tonight i almost lost control. and if that happens, you could be in serious trouble."

your expression falters just a little bit, but your thoughts finally fill with the realization of how much you love him. how much you're willing to do anything for him. how you're willing to sacrifice freedom for him.

"then lose control." you breathe out shakily. at first, he doesn't think he hears you right. his eyes widen, his fingers drop from your chin, and he takes a step back.

"what?" he asks, louder than anticipated, his expression mixed with fear and disgust from your request. how could you ask him something so absurd?

"you heard me."

"no." he scoffs, returning to his pacing around your bedroom. "no way."

"please, bobby." you beg him, scooting towards the edge of the bed as you plead his name over and over. his sharp eyes gaze at you with furious intensity. "are you crazy? do you know what that could do to you?"

"i don't care." you say.

"i care. i could kill you." he looks at you up and down with an expression like he's just been told the most outrageous thing in the world. "if i feed on you, then your life completely changes." he breathes out, a disgusted squint in his eyes just at the mention of it.

"how?" you ask.

"im not spending my time explaining this to you." he scoffs, grabbing his shirt on the floor. you grab his wrist, forcing his eyes to you. "tell me."

he takes a deep breath, waits a few moments, and then realizes how invested you are. how much you care. "i haven't fed on a human in a very, very long time. if i do, my body will get used to your blood, and I'll lose control. by the time I finish, I'll have to turn you into my kind."

"is there a way you can stay in control?" you ask hesitantly.

he stares blankly at you. "no."

he turns his back to you, walking towards the window. he pulls it open with one hand without any effort, and you wonder how strong he actually is. it takes you both hands to open that window.

he grabs a cig from his back pocket and lights it, taking a long drag. you both don't speak for a long time, letting him process while you wait for him to continue. "im a monster. all of us are. we aren't the same when we hunt, and im never letting you see me like that."

he looks back at you. "ever." he blows the smoke out past his lips with fierce eyes and a sharp tone.

"then turn me." you say, your chin held high.

he scoffs again. "im not in the mood for this."

"im serious, robert." you say sharply. he looks back at you, his eyes still as intense as ever. "i want you to turn me."

"stop it."

"it's what i want."

he doesn't respond, but you can hear his jaw clenching. "i know you crave it."

"please, just stop." he grits through his teeth.

"i know you want my blood."

he digs his palms into his eyes so roughly he starts to see red. "stop it, okay?" he shouts, banging his knuckles onto your vanity. your lipsticks wobble on the table, falling over. he startles you, and you jolt in your position. he's never yelled at you before. you've never seen him this nervous.

his chest rises and falls, trying to calm himself down. he won't lash out again. "i'm sorry." he sighs. he walks over to you, dropping his cig in the ash tray on the windowsill, the chilly breeze mussing up his hair.

"im so, so sorry." he falls to his knees at the foot of the bed, and your soft hands twist in his blonde strands. "its okay." a single tear rolls down your cheek, and you sniffle. he hears it, looking up at you.

"shit, don't cry." he lifts his finger to your face, wiping your tear away. "God, I'm so fucking sorry. I can't be around you. this is why-"

"no, bobby. I want this. I'm willing to do it for you." you place your hand over his.

"stop saying that." he hisses, a tear falling down his cheek. "you don't mean it."

"i do." you cut in.

"you don't realize what you're getting yourself into and how dangerous that is. so just stop. please." he begs you. he won't put you through it, and he won't make you suffer.

"what is the point of my life if you're not in it?" you breathe out, your voice cracking with each word.

his heart sinks at your statement, and he lowers his head to your stomach. you cradle his head in your hands, whispering softly in his ear. "please, all i want is to be with you. forever."

"you'll regret it."

"i can assure you i wont."

he huffs a laugh. "its not easy being like me."

"tell me."

"i don't sleep- can't sleep." he starts. "you need blood, can't eat no more pizza pockets anymore." he teases you, and you start to laugh just the tiniest bit at his words.

"how often?"

"we hunt every weekend."

"okay. cool." you nod.

he chuckles. "you really won't let up, will you?"

you shake your head. "i want you forever."

───

robert in the sunlight has to be the most divine thing you've ever seen. his black button up shirt is flapped open, revealing the rivets in his pale muscles and the intricate cross tattoo that sits on his chest. he's in a much better mood than last night, which makes you smile.

his skin is glowing. his eyes are staring straight into the sun like it doesn't hurt. "i thought you couldn't go into the sun?"

"horrible myth." he jumps off a rock and lands on the grass near you with a sharp chuckle. with one quick movement, he backs you up against the nearest tree, your head softly thudding against the wood. you let out a sharp gasp at the contact, surprised he's in your space so abruptly.

"sorry," he giggles with that bright smile of his. "did i hurt you?" he places his hand behind your hair, cradling your head. he replaces the wood with his palm. "no, im fine." you smile, searching his eyes.

his eyes trail over your face, his nostrils flaring for just a moment. he sniffs you, and you flex your jaw for him. "are you okay?" you ask with a small giggle. his lips lift into a smirk.

"you smell good." he runs his sharp nose along your throat, letting your eyes flutter shut. "yeah?" you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper. he nods his head. "like vanilla." he smiles from your scent.

your heart is beating loudly, and he notices. "do i scare you?" he asks hesitantly, his eyes flaring with concern. you shake your head. "never."

his face calms. "okay." he huffs a laugh, adjusting closer to you. one of his hands grazes your cheek, then moved his fingers to place a few strands of your silky hair behind your ear.

his breath fans down your neck, tickling you. you giggle. "you should have run from me when you had the chance," he whispers into your neck.

"i tried. it's impossible to be without you." you mutter, but he hears everything regardless of his supernatural abilities.

"last chance." he says, his teeth grazing your neck. you shiver, relaxing back against the tree.

"one question." you cut in. he pulls back just enough to see your eyes. "why did you take me here?" you gesture to the forest, looking around at the bark near your feet and the grassy area beneath the two of you.

"it's the best place to be once you're turned. you can finally run free." he explains so beautifully, you can see the twinkle in his eye and the way his voice brightens as he reminisces.

"are you sure?"

"yes." you let out a shaky exhale, ready for whatever's to come.

"i need to hear you say it. please." he tries to steady himself.

you put your hand on his forearm. "im sure, robert."

"okay." he exhales long, moving towards your neck. "it won't hurt." he mutters. "for long." he adds.

you take another deep breath and close your eyes, trying your best to focus on his scent and the way he's grounding you so you won't slip out of his grip. "sorry." he notices you try to wiggle out. "if you move it'll only hurt more."

"i understand." you say, your voice a hushed whisper.

he leans down to kiss you, his lips meeting your soft ones. he groans at the feeling, so full of high spirits that he can touch you again. "just trust me, okay?" he asks, whispering against your lips.

"i trust you." you lick your lips, tasting his scent of mint and cigarettes on your tongue. he smirks, looking at you once for confirmation, and when you nod, he dips his mouth to your lips and presses another small peck there. after, he kisses your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, before dipping lower.

his lips find your jaw, pressing peppered kisses in a trail down your neck. when they find the soft skin of your throat, he inhales, his large teeth flashing in the bright sunlight. he reveals himself to your neck before one last kiss. "i love you." he whispers before diving in at last.

his teeth sink into your neck, and he hears a sharp gasp escape your lips. at that sound, he winces, knowing he's hurting you. at first, he sucks gently, your blood is travelling down your neck. he's in control. he thinks he has it.

your nails grip at his shoulder as your eyebrows turn inward, trying to steady yourself. "im sorry." he whispers over and over, pulling away from you at some points, a single tear dripping down his cheek. his heart sinks with each gasp, and he feels like a monster. even though you've always promised he's not, he must accept it.

his eyes go wide, his pupils getting so small you only see dark blue, and he's lost it. he's not in control anymore.

he's killing you.

"robert?" you gasp for air, your hands clutching his back. he thirsts for your blood- human blood; a privilege he hasn't let himself grasp in years.

"please, robert. come back." you whisper.

blood travels down his chin as he continues draining you, your voice nothing to him. he can't hear, deaf from excitement, craving your blood. your skin turns paler each second. after a few long minutes, your body slides down the trunk of the tree, and his feral daze is gone.

he falls back, his hands clutching at the dirt as he crawls back against the ground, his eyes wide and his mouth covered in blood. his large fangs are still visible, and he's nothing but disappointed in himself.

he's killed his first love. his only love. "no. no, no, no, no, no." he repeats over and over, crawling back over you near the tree. he cries openly now. it wasn't supposed to get like that.

without hesitation, he pulls back his sleeve with blood stained hands, pushing it past his forearm. he sinks his teeth into his own wrist, wincing at the feeling. he can only imagine how you felt when he drained you.

he crawls closer to you and places your head in his lap. he's kneeling beneath you, forcing your head to his wrist. "drink it, please." he begs you softly, wrapping your lips around his wrist as he guides your head in the right direction.

after a while, your heartbeat starts to quicken, your pale face gaining color, your lips wrapping around his wrist as your lifeline. "yes." he laughs in relief, cradling your head with his other hand.

your eyes open, a hazel and amber color gleaming in the sunlight for the shortest second. you gasp for air, sitting up in his lap. your eyes are back to their normal color, your skin now glimmering with his in the sunlight.

"bobby?" you ask, your voice raspy. his eyes well with tears. "hi." he sighs in relief, cradling your head closer to his, your sweaty foreheads sticking together.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, blood printing your skin. "i feel weird."

he chuckles. "weird how?"

"like im rushing with adrenaline...sorta." your voice airy.

"that's how it is," he chuckles, but then he clears his throat. "im so sorry." the realization sets back in. your brows furrow in confusion. he just gave you immortality. why would he be apologizing?

"why are you sorry?" you ask innocently, your lips turning into a cute pout as you tilt your head to the side of the tree.

"i tried to stay in control. i really tried." his voice breaks as he says this.

you grab his blood stained fingers, threading them through yours. "im here now. and im here forever. im not leaving."

───

"can i?" he asks, his hands travelling over your shoulder blades as the hot water runs over your skin. you nod your head, letting him move your hair out of the way so he can press a gentle kiss to your bare shoulder.

he grabs the soap, pours it onto the loofa, and runs it over your shoulder. he travels the soapy sponge towards your neck, removing any blood stains off you.

you hiss, your eyebrows knitting together. "did that hurt?" he pulls back hesitantly.

"a little." you respond, and he moves to the other side of your neck where the soap won't sting open skin. he continues to wash your hair for you, running his soft fingers into your scalp, making your head fall back against his shoulder. he chuckles, that sound vibrating against your ear.

after your shower, he wraps you in a soft, white towel before tying one low on his waist. you both brush your teeth together in silence as he holds your hair to keep out of the way of toothpaste.

"sit down." he nods his chin towards the toilet seat, and you clutch your towel around your body tighter before plopping down. he towers over you, leaning down on one knee as he grabs the medicine kit under the sink.

he removes ointment and a disinfectant, gently angling your neck upwards toward the ceiling of the steamy bathroom. the mirrors are still foggy, but it's starting to dry up.

you hiss once he applies the disinfectant, but before it stings too much, he wipes it away with water and starts with the ointment. you suck your teeth, and he notices your pain, whispering a small "sorry."

when he's done, he applies a small brown bandage on your neck and kisses you through the rough fabric. "all better." he whispers in your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

"let me see those fangs." he urges you and you smile. you press your finger in your cheek and pull it open revealing sharp fangs.

he sucks his teeth sharply, shaking his head. "sharp pair." he smirks. "im jealous." he adds while placing a strand of wet hair behind your ear, cradling your cheek.

"i meant what i said, bobby." you mutter. he doesn't respond, just listens. "i want you forever."

he smiles softly. "i know."

───