♱Catholic Façade♱ @catholicfacade - Tumblr Blog

Oct 21, 2025

One Hundred Sleepless Nights II | Joost Klein

description: (vamp! joost x innocent! reader) part II to this fic- two months after your encounter with joost, and finding out who he really was, the two of you seemed to be falling hard and fast. but then the nightmares started, and then the bleeding followed. you believe what’s happening to you is divine. joost believes it’s a death sentence.

content: this fic comes with STRONG trigger warnings, please head these before proceeding further!!!! 18+, MDNI, brief smut (f! receiving fingering), blood, vampire stuff, pregnancy, major character death, self-harm, suicidal ideation, murder, strangulation, stabbing, angst with very little comfort, unhappy-ish ending, intense catholic guilt, takes place in late 90s, lore HEAVY, lots of vampire world building and rules lol. this is probably the darkest fic ive ever written...

this fic contains RPF and has been tagged as such, if this makes you uncomfortable please block the tags and move on. this is ALL FANTASY. behaviors/opinions mentioned in this fic do not reflect my own! again this is fantasy!

big big shoutout to @tkomptgoedluv for being the best beta reader eveerrrr <3 and also encouraging my evilness luv u xx

word count: ~15.1k

The bathroom tile is cold against your cheek, almost painfully so, but you know if you try to rise, you will only be cast down again. Your breath comes shallow, slow, shaky, like someone's hands are around your throat. With each desperate gasp, your chest fights to rise. Your vision begins to blur swarmed with fuzzy spots of black. You can't help but wonder- What will take you out first? The thick, thorny pain that wraps around you, or the loss of blood. You blink a few times, your sight fading more and more with every flutter of your eyes. A tear drips onto the tile below, and your lips quiver, as you attempt to use your dwindling strength to push yourself onto your back to face the ceiling, the sky, heaven.

You can't muster more than a whisper once your back finally hits the floor, eyes squeezing shut, "God," a word- a name you hadn't muttered in weeks, the simple three letters that fall from your lips revive a familiar guilt inside you, one that you had tried so desperately to forget.

But things were just as you had been led to believe your whole life, and Joost had lied. He had spoken as if he cared for your soul, as if he had understood what you feared- yet with every word he had pulled you from what you knew was right.

You had sinned, and this was your punishment, your damnation, you've lost something you will never get back-"I am guilty, b-but" Another breath, "Please, do not tu-turn from me." You wince, your pain growing, nearing far past the point of bearability, you nearly shriek, "Oh, God, R-remember me, your servant."

Four Days Earlier

The back of your hand swipes across your cheeks as you hear the sound of your bedroom door opening. The squeak of its old hinges pulls you ever so slightly from your haze. You look up at the door through wet lashes and stinging eyes, a quivering frown still stuck on your lips.

"I thought I told you not to wait up for m- oh."

You bite your lower lip as Joost walks through the door, his jaw slacking slightly once your eyes meet.

"It happened again…" You trail off, not needing to explain any further before Joost's head is tipped to the side, and a frown to match yours pulls at the corners of his mouth.

Joost had always hated his job, hated spending his nights- the few hours of darkness he had to actually go outside working the overnight shift at an internet cafe, breathing in the fumes of sweat and the faint electric tang of overheated monitors. He hated the customers that the late hour attracted, the perverts that would come in to spend hours watching internet porn, leaving Joost to clean up the mess they left behind, the university students pulling all-nighters who sprawled out amongst the chairs like this had been their own dorm room, mumbling too loud as they typed away on their papers, leaving empty cups and coffee stains all over the desks. Or the basement dwellers that came in, hunched and pale, melting their brains on conspiracy forums, filling the room with a tense, restless energy as they muttered about aliens and government cover-ups.

Even as Joost's hunger grew throughout the long night shift he found their blood sluggish and unappealing. They would stumble up to the counter, eyes red from lack of sleep, and for a moment, Joost would imagine sinking his teeth into one of them. But there was no pleasure in it, made nauseous by the taste of decay, and the endless hum of the machines that surrounded him. He was sure that even he was more alive than that place was.

But now, Joost had especially hated his job because it took him away from you. This had been the third night this week he had come home to you sitting at the foot of your bed, legs pulled tight to your chest, sobbing.

"They keep getting worse," You suck in a sharp, high-pitched breath while your voice breaks. Your chest aches from all the heaving, throat dry and head pounding.

"Oh," Joost coos, sounding genuinely hurt, "My poor angel." He hurries over from where he had been standing in the doorway to the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you. He grabs hold of your ankle, slowly pulling one leg from your chest, repeating the motion with the other. He shifts a little higher on his knees and wraps his arms around your torso, and you quickly grab onto him, arms squeezing his frame, your fingernails digging into his back as you sob against Joost's neck. His breathing is slow and steady, grounding, the coldness of his skin now a familiar comfort.

Even now, as he holds you in his arms while you cry to him for another day in a row, Joost can't help but be a little confused. Confused as to what the substance of these nightmares you had been having was, confused on what had prompted them to start. Truthfully, you had been less than forthcoming outside of your frantic sobs about how scared you had been. But it was hard to describe just what had been haunting your dreams to Joost when even you didn't seem to understand- still, once again you had awoken with the feeling of your stomach in your throat, heart beating at the speed of light, and an unshakable feeling of dread.

"I just want to sleep," You cry out, defeated, wondering about how much of this you'll have to put up with.

"I know," His hand smooths over your back, sighing against the top of your head before pressing a kiss to your scalp, "How about we lie down?"

You nod slowly, forehead pushing into Joost's shoulder,

"Okay," Joost pauses, "Let me go for a second so I can undress."

Reluctantly, you oblige, slipping away from him, anticipating his return to bed as he stands up, backing away. His hands slide up his chest as he fumbles with the buttons of his khaki shirt, pulling each one from its loop fiercely, with no care as to whether or not the cheap buttons would fall off. Next was the tight-fitted long-sleeve he wore under the button-up.

His belt clanks as his hands race to the metal buckle next, his pants soon after falling to his ankles and he kicks them off into a pile with the rest of his discarded clothes. You track his movements with your eyes, watching as he inches closer to the bed once again. Joost tilts his head to the side, and flicks out his hand,

"Come on," He urges, his order not commanding, but rather sweet as he steps closer to the foot of the bed, "Lay down."

You oblige, bracing your hands behind you as you scoot back onto the bed. Joost crawls onto the bed after you, less hesitantly as he heads towards the pillows at the head of the bed.

You lean back, pulling the duvet over your body, slowly, anxious about what will happen once your head hits the pillows again and you drift back to sleep. But Joost's presence is of some comfort, watchful of your anxious frame, propped up on one elbow on the pillows.

You lower yourself onto the white sheets, relaxing your neck finally laying down. You look up at Joost, and he gives you a soft smile like he knows you're waiting for him. With his free hand his thumb swipes over your tearstained cheeks, his other four fingers reaching back to tuck some strands of hair behind your ear.

It never ceased to baffle you how seemingly gentle Joost was, the months you'd spent anxious, tiptoe-ing around your weird roommate had been for nothing. And even now, when he'd come home with blood-soaked lips and fangs still protracted, you couldn't see him as anything other than the sweet boy you'd come to know. To you, he'd merely been a victim of circumstance, you found yourself constantly wishing you had known him before he turned, but you supposed you were a victim of circumstance here too, and you just had to be grateful to know him at all.

"My beautiful little angel," He pouts, thumb continuing to stroke your cheek, "What happened?"

You clench your jaw, swallowing hard,

"I don't know," You whisper, throat raw, voice hoarse, "I can't even describe it… I can't remember the dreams when I wake up… but I wake up and everything just feels so scary, so wrong."

Joost shakes his head, expression clearly pained that he cannot do anything more to help,

"There's nothing to be scared of," He reassures, "You know I'd never let anything hurt you."

A small, fake smile tugs at your lips, as you try to put on a brave face for him, hating the way he'd seen you lately, hating how the way that you had been acting made you feel like you were the scared girl he had first met all over again. You wondered briefly if this had been some sort of punishment for straying so far away from what you had thought was your destined past. But you tried to put that thought from your mind, trying to rid yourself of the fear of punishments from God or of Hell.

"Right?" He asks, voice deep and smooth, desperately searching for some sort of confirmation.

"Right," You whisper, nodding slightly, nuzzling into the palm of his hand.

"Good." He smiles slightly once more, "Can I turn out the light?"

"Oh," You mumble, still not quite ready to be enveloped in darkness once again, "Yeah, I think."

"Don't worry," he chuckles, but his laugh is reassuring as his hand lifts from your cheek and he stretches behind him to pull the string on your bedside lamp, the room going dark with a single clink. You suck in a sharp breath at the sudden darkness, anxiety taking you once more. "I got you." Joost mumbles, finally laying down, his hand coming to your waist to pull you close to him.

You turn so your back is to him, allowing Joost to pull you flat to his chest, his arms tight around your waist. By now you had gotten used to the lack of warmth from his body, and his abnormally slow heartbeat when you pressed your head against his chest. That was just him, that was just Joost, Even if he hadn't been fully alive, what you had felt for him was not any less real.

Joost's slow breaths are hypnotizing as you lay next to him, as you attempt to slow your own breathing to something closer to that pace. You knew as you laid there, with your eyes closed and mind racing, that it would be awhile before you could sleep.

Joost presses a kiss to the back of your head before using the tip of his nose to slip the thin strap of your silky nightgown down your shoulder. After which he continues with his kisses.

You hum softly at the feeling of his lips, at the small, sweet pecks. His kisses trailing from your shoulder blade, steadily creeping up to your neck, where they become longer, more passionate, the feeling of his tongue against your skin sending shivers down your spine.

You stretch your body, sighing sweetly at the sensation, toes curling, neck extending to the side to allow Joost greater access to continue his kisses. Joost's grip becomes tighter around your waist, his forearm pressing down into your abdomen as he pulls you as close as he possibly can to him, wanting to feel every inch of your body against his.

"Hmm, Joost." You groan at the feeling of his lips against your neck, finally a real smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as each kiss eases your anxieties away. Your body relaxes under his touch, your skin grows hot, and the good kind of butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Joost unwraps one arm from around you, trailing the silky length of your slip until he reaches its lacy hem, curious fingers fiddling with the material before slipping up your leg. Joost had bunched the nightgown up to your thigh when your stomach began to tighten, anticipating what was to come next. The pads of his fingers trace miscellaneous shapes against your flesh, inching higher and higher up your thigh.

"I think I know what will help you get to sleep…" Joost's voice is low and sultry, and for a moment you swear you can even feel some heat from his breath tickling against your ear, it makes your body tremble, and your cheeks warm.

"Yeah?" You giggle, leaning your face further into the pillows, the plush surface stifling your high-pitched laughter. You hadn't quite gotten over your shyness around sex, despite the two months that had passed since you and Joost's first encounter, and how sex had become an almost nightly occurrence- it still all seemed a little foreign to you. Not that you didn't like it, in fact, you had almost feared you had gotten a little addicted to it, moving from one extreme to the next. Joost didn't seem to mind, happy to have you whenever he could. No longer was Joost bringing home a different girl every night while you shamefully listened in on the other side of the wall- He was yours now.

Joost mumbles, "Mmhm," his fingers dipping between your thighs, making your muscles clench, a tightness already growing in your lower stomach before he had even really touched you. Joost squeezes one of your thighs before the palm of his hand rises to press against your crotch, chuckling slightly when you instinctively rut against him.

"Is that what you want?" He asks like he already knows the answer- and he surely does, smiling satisfactorily when you hum in agreement, "Yeah, let me help you feel better." A singular finger moving to rub slow circles against your clit through your panties.

You let out a sigh at the way the sensation almost immediately releases the tension in your body, letting yourself sink into the mattress below, becoming enveloped by pleasure. Your jaw slacks at the feeling, Joost's soft rubbing coaxing small little moans from your throat. Your body twitches in small jolts when Joost traces over the puffy bundle of nerves just right. Your legs kick below you, moving almost involuntarily as a pleasure response. You're desperate for more, nearly panting as your breathing picks up.

You feel Joost pushing against your back as he picks up his pace, his movements becoming sloppy even through your panties as your growing wetness begins to dampen the fabric. You kick against him, not really meaning to as you beg for "more", begging for him to finally slip a finger inside of you.

All of a sudden a sharp pang, not of pleasure, but of white hot searing pain strikes your abdomen. You bite down, clenching your jaw tight as you try not to shriek, hoping it's just a spontaneous stomach cramp that will pass soon.

Joost's movements come to a halt, perhaps sensing the sudden pain that had ripped through your body.

"Are you okay..?" His hand retracted from between your thighs, returning to your waist, holding you anxiously. "You're bleeding."

"What…" You frown, furrowing your eyebrows, flipping over, wincing as the pain seems to somehow get even worse with your movements, "No I'm not." How could you be bleeding, where Could you be bleeding?

"I smell it," He says, matter of factly, "Your blood, It's distinct."

You sit up, your body ravaged by yet another searing pang of pain.

"Oh god," You sigh, "I feel…" your voice breaks before you can get out any other words, your vision suddenly blurring as your body is overcome in pure agony.

Joost sits up too, but you move quicker, clutching your abdomen as you run out of the bedroom, making your way towards the bathroom.

The tile floor is cold beneath your bare feet when you reach the bathroom, and you grip the edge of the sink for balance.

Joost follows after, lingering at the door, torn between wanting to help and giving you space. You glance up at your reflection, eyes tired and sunken in, a thin sheen of sweat across your forehead. Something inside you twists, an instinctive dread rising before you even look down.

With anxious fingers you lift up the hem of your nightgown, and the sight confirms it, a bright red drop trailing down your leg. You stare, perplexed as you lift the garment higher, realizing your upper thighs have been stained with blood. It makes you cringe, knowing Joost could see you now, knowing you had probably stained your white sheets.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The sound of the buzzing fluorescent light fills the silence. Then Joost steps closer, his expression unreadable, concern shadowed by something deeper, something like fear, or maybe hunger.

"Everything alright?" Joost asks, his voice wavering, you're sure by now his teeth are aching, and his fingernails are probably dug firmly into the wood of the frame of the door, attempting to hold himself back at the smell.

"Yeah," You sigh, "I think I umm.." You trail off for a moment, dropping the slip, "Must have just gotten my period."

"Are you sure? That looks like a lot of bloo-"

"Yep." You stand up straight, giving an uncomfortable smile, "I'm sure, let me um. Sorry, let me clean up."

You don't let him get out another word before you're slamming the bathroom door, sighing slightly as the pain marginally subsides.

You tried to push Joost's words out of your mind, he was right, that was a lot of blood. But what did he know? You had no better explanation, it had made sense. And besides, you had been past due, your period at least a few weeks late by now, and you chalked the excessive amount of blood and pain to merely a disruption in your cycle. Perhaps the nightmares had been hormonal too.

You frown, slipping your nightgown from your frame, and your underwear following soon after. You look down at your blood-stained clothes, disappointed, hoping you could somehow remove the bright, crimson stain from its delicate fabric.

You kick your clothes to the side, and pull the shower curtain over, bending down to run the faucet. You pause for a moment, waiting for the water to get warm before stepping into the shower, closing the curtain behind you.

The water is hot, the drops soothing your skin as they beat down on you at a fierce pace. You try to avoid getting your hair wet as you stand up on your tip toes, grabbing the shower head down to quickly clean yourself off. You're tired, and want out of this shower as soon as possible, in here to do nothing more than to rinse yourself off.

You watch as the water runs between your thighs, turning a light pink color before running clear once again once all the blood has been rinsed off. You tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of your mind, the one that questioned why you had bled so much so quickly, or how you had been gripped by so much pain. You had no interest in making sense of it, too tired, and far too anxious to imagine any other explanation.

You grab the towel that sits on the back of the bathroom door once you step back out onto the cold, bathroom tile. Shivering, you dry yourself off before wrapping it around you. You look around the bathroom anxiously before creeping towards the door, hesitantly grabbing the handle and pushing it open with a creak.

"Joost…" You call out, voice soft and pondering. You open the door a little further, peering around the hallway before finally looking down, realizing he had been sitting just outside the bathroom this whole time. You gasp slightly, startled that he had been there all this time, but still, slightly endeared by the way he had waited for you so close by.

Joost looks up at you expectantly, eyes widening, lips parting slightly as he waits for you to elaborate on why you had called out for him

"Could you, uh, grab me something to wear?"

Joost nods quickly, getting up and scurrying off into the bedroom before returning with new clothes in hand. You open the door fully to receive the clothes that Joost was handing off to you,

"You know," He starts as you take the small pile of clothes from his hands, "I don't have to work tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah?" You ask with a small smile, honestly relieved that for once this week you won't have to spend the night alone.

"Yeah," He trails off for a moment, "And I think, maybe we should go out tomorrow, I can take you on a real proper date- you know to make up for the last few days."

For once tonight you finally perk up, a genuine smile, one with teeth grazes your face.

"A date," You repeat back, "Really, where?" Truthfully, you had never really been on a date- sure, you had been out with Joost occasionally in the last two months, late at night to a dingy bar or club where his band had been playing. Those nights had mostly been spent with you, ever so sheltered and unaware, anxiously sitting on the outskirts of Joost and all of his blood sucking creature of the night friends. It wasn't really your crowd, and you hadn't quite warmed up to them just yet, feeling more like their prey than a friend.

Aside from those occasions, you'd been beginning to realize you kind of stopped leaving the apartment, unable to stand the way your friends seemed to turn their nose down at Joost when you had introduced them to him- the way they begged you to come back to church, their not-so-subtle ways of implying you were some sort of slut when you had stopped dressing so modestly, sneering at you when your long flowy dresses and no-heavier makeup than chapstick had turned into mini skirts and dark-smudged eyeliner. They seemed more interested in converting you than actually being your friend.

Maybe it would be nice to really get out of the house for once, even if at night.

"Wherever you want." Joost smiles back, "You deserve it, something nice, you know?"

You smile as Joost's fingers interlock with yours- the summer air is warm as a breeze blows through your hair, and you can't help but think about how badly you want for this night to never end.

"That was nice," Your free hand reaches to tuck a piece of hair that had blown loose behind your ear.

"Yeah?" Joost asks as you look up at him, flashing a toothy grin down at you, clearly satisfied at how your date had played out.

"Yeah," You nod, beginning your trek home from the restaurant back to your apartment, "Sorry you kind of just had to watch me eat, though."

"It's alright," Joost shrugs, "I'm a cheap date." He chuckles.

"No really," You tilt your head to the side, "I'm sorry." You can't help but feel bad for Joost, for how much of an outsider he seemed to be when doing normal human stuff.

"Meh, I don't really have an appetite anymore." He pauses for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows, "Well I do, it's just for…" He trails off when something else catches his attention, quickly whipping his head towards you, eyes widening, "Blood…" He whispers, suddenly sounding serious now.

Your eyes catch his briefly, and he looks at you like he already knows what's about to happen, like how he knows the sharp pang of pain that has just entered your body. You gasp, practically paralyzed by the sensation, and it's somehow much worse than the pains from last night. You rip your hand from Joost's, arms flinging around your stomach, clutching tightly as it strikes you again, deeper now, nagging.

Joost's hands suddenly come out to steady you-sensing you were near collapsing.

"Hey, hey" His hands grip your arms, cold against your warm flesh, "Hey are you okay?"

"Y-yeah" You choke out, "Just. Cramps." Your words are sharp, short, it's all you can muster out, the pain taking every ounce of strength you possess. You wobble slightly, and all of a sudden everything seems so much scarier, your vision blurring, fuzzy spots of black suddenly in your line of sight- This was like nothing you'd ever experienced. You can feel yourself fading, and you try to clutch onto Joost, forcing yourself to hold on, both to him and your consciousness. You blink hard, breathing deep as you try to make yourself come to, but your efforts seem to be in vain. You'd never felt so weak, so drained.

Joost seems panicked, and maybe he should be, this was odd. He wasn't completely stupid, he'd had girlfriends before, he'd heard them complain about the pain that had come with their time of the month. But nothing like this, and the blood…

"I don't think s-" Joost stops suddenly, mortified as your body goes limp and drops to the ground. His lip quivers, heart sinking to his stomach as he falls down to his knees, picking your head off the ground, pulling at your hair, frantically making sure you hadn't at least externally injured your head on impact. His own vision began to blur, and the only sense that seemed to work was his smell, the thick, metallic tang of blood filling his nostrils as panicked hands roamed your body to get you off of the pavement and into his arms.

Joost curses to himself as he slips his arms under you, hit with an intense nausea as he moves to lift you up, realizing just how limp your body was, if it wasn't for the subtle rise and fall of your chest, he would have thought he had actually lost you. He mumbles something reassuring, more to himself than to you, knowing you can't hear- his unease with the situation only intensified when he finally looks down and notices the deep, red, pool of blood on the sidewalk below.

Joost paces back and forth, a hand running through his dry, bleach-damaged hair, pulling at the strands. His heart hadn't beat this fast since he had been human. He couldn't recall the last time he had been this close to tears either, so much of his life up until this point had been marked by a certain numbness that had come with the whole being undead thing.

But now, now he was feeling- it was almost as if he was alive again, but alive in the worst ways, the anxiety a reminder of why he even chose to escape that life-life altogether in the first place.

He stops for a moment, trying to catch his breath, staring down the long, white, sterile hallway. Joost hated hospitals. He hated them when he was alive, and he especially hated them now. The unmistakable scent of blood seeping from every direction, it was almost overpowering, clouding his brain and better judgement almost as much as the panic he was experiencing.

"Excuse me." A stern voice suddenly ripping Joost from his racing thoughts, and he quickly turns on his heels to face the sound, "Are you uhh…" A man in a white lab coat looks down, flipping through papers on a clipboard, shaking his head, "I'm sorry- I don't know your name," He laughs slightly, awkwardly, the small smile on who he presumed was the doctor’'s face making Joost wince, "Did you bring Miss Y/N Y/L/N in?"

Joost bites his bottom lip, nodding fiercely before answering, "Yes- yes, yes I did. She's my girlfriend. Is she alright? I-"

"Yes," He answers slowly, "She's… okay." he nods, knitting his brows. Joost doesn't like how unsure of himself the doctor sounds, "Stable. She's asleep but she's alright." This wasn't enough information for Joost, he needed to more, he needed to know you were truly okay.

"What happened-" Joost sucks in a sharp breath, "One moment we were walking together, fine, and then all of a sudden…" His voice trails off, getting quieter as he remembers the feeling of watching you drop, "She was down."

"You see that's the thing… Mr. uhhh?"

"Klein."

"Right," The doctor nods, pressing his lips into a tight line, "Mr. Klein… it's just," He shakes his head in a way that makes Joost's stomach flip, "It's just all very peculiar." Joost clenches his jaw, seemingly bewildered, peculiar? What the fuck could that possibly mean? Wasn't the doctor supposed to know this shit.

"W-what?" Joost sputters, "Peculiar how?"

“Mr. Klein…” he starts, voice quieter now, “I’m afraid there are a few things we need to discuss about Miss Y/L/N’s condition.”

Joost stiffens, his hands twitching at his sides. “Condition?”

“When she came in, she’d lost quite a bit of blood. You said she just collapsed?”

Joost nods. “She just…she went down. I thought, well I don't know what I thought…” He trails off, his voice cracking. “There was blood. But this happened last night to well- the blood, and the pain but not the fainting part. She just- she said she had gotten her period, that's all.”

The doctor nods slowly, lips pressing into a thin, grim line, "I take it neither of you knew then."

Joost's eyebrows furrow, immediate panic hitting his face, "Know what?" He nearly yells, anxious to get the words out.

"She's pregnant, Mr. Klein."

Joost just stares at him. The word doesn’t even register. Pregnant. It floats in the sterile air, absurd, impossible. He knew as much- he was dead, How could someone who had died ever be capable of producing life? Joost had certainly had a lot of sex since he turned, and never once had anyone ever got pregnant. He was dead. He couldn't- This had to be some sort of sick joke on behalf of the doctor. Had he been wrong this whole time? Had you lied? Had you been seeing someone else?

The doctor hesitates, watching Joost’s expression shift between disbelief and something close to dread. He clears his throat, continuing gently, “From what we can tell, she’s roughly six or seven weeks along. But…” He glances down at the clipboard in his hands again, brows knitting together, “…the circumstances are highly irregular.”

Joost doesn’t move.

“She’s very weak, Mr. Klein,” the doctor goes on. “I mean dangerously so. Her complete blood count is alarmingly low, she’s severely anemic, and the bleeding you saw wasn’t an isolated incident. Her body’s been under strain for quite some time.” He looks back up, voice soft but firm. “This pregnancy… You know, it's normal for a developing fetus to derive nutrients from its mother… but… this sort of rapid depletion is not normal for any stage of a pregnancy, let alone the first trimester."

Any possible skepticism of this baby- or whatever it was not being Joost's quickly flees his mind. This had to be his, and to Joost it was alarmingly clear, this thing was feeding on you, making you more of its host than its mother.

He looks back at the page, frowning deeper. “Frankly, we can’t make sense of it. Her cells are showing properties we’ve never seen in a normal pregnancy. Almost like they’re metabolizing differently. Faster. And her heart rate, when she came in it was barely there, and then it spiked to twice the normal level within minutes. And now it’s perfectly stable.”

Joost feels his throat tighten, every instinct screaming at him that he knows exactly why.

The doctor looks back up, studying Joost’s pale face. “Has she been exposed to any unusual substances? Chemicals? Medications? Any prior medical conditions that you know of?”

Joost swallows hard. “No."

The doctor shifts the clipboard under one arm, crossing his other hand over it, almost as if bracing himself. “Well then… I don’t want to alarm you, but if she continues like this, her body may not be able to sustain the pregnancy. She's stable for now, but this isn’t something that will just ‘work itself out.’”

Joost feels something cold crawl down his spine. “So what are you saying?” His face twists, bewildered.

“I’m saying…” the doctor answers carefully, choosing every word like it might explode, “that when she wakes up, we’ll need to have a very serious conversation with her about her options.”

"Options?" Joost's throat runs dry

The doctor sighs, shaking his head slightly, "Continuing this pregnancy… it could be dangerous. Potentially fatal.”

Joost’s breath catches, his fingers curling into fists, the doctor's words ringing in his ears fatal, it just couldn't be. You two had barely just met, and it seemed as if you were already being torn away from him. “But she’s okay now?”

“She’s stable,” the doctor repeats softly. “But that’s not the same as safe.”

Joost doesn't say anything, all he can do is stare, not at the doctor, but just past him, at the door behind him, knowing you're in there, out cold, perhaps blissfully unaware of the nightmare your reality is about to become. He almost dreads you waking up, knowing the news that will have to be broken to you.

The doctor shifts uneasily under Joost's blank, unblinking stare, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ll talk to her when she wakes. These aren’t conversations I like to have, but she needs to understand what’s happening inside her. Her body is rejecting this, every test we’ve run says as much.”

"I-I understand," Joost stutters, nodding quickly, still refusing to look at the doctor. His jaw tightens, and his fingers curling against his palms.

“I’ll let you see her soon,” the doctor says softly, "I’m sorry, Mr. Klein. I know this isn’t what you expected to hear."

The doctor gives him one last sympathetic look before turning down the hall, his footsteps fading into the hum of distant machines. Joost stands there for a moment, motionless, staring at the closed door. The fluorescent lights above flicker faintly, it makes the hallway feel colder than it is.

He presses his palm to his forehead, trying to think, trying to breathe. Pregnant. The word still feels unreal, like it belongs to someone else’s life. He can almost feel his own stillness, his bloodless heart, his cold veins mocking him for even daring to hope this could make sense.

After what feels like an eternity, the doctor reappears, nudging the door open slightly. “She’s awake,” he says quietly. “Still weak, but alert enough to talk.”

Joost doesn't respond with anything more than a nod, following the doctor into the now open door. The room is dim, the blinds are closed, and Joost isn't quite sure what time it even is now- but judging from the orange light that seeps in from the cracks in the cheap plastic, he would hazard a guess that they were moving into the morning. He wonders briefly about how he's going to manage to get you home if the doctor decides you're free to leave anytime while it's still light out.

But Joost quickly realizes that possibility is likely out of the question when he sees your state. There’s a faint sheen of sweat across your forehead, and the IV line snakes down your arm, dripping clear fluid into your veins. You blink sluggishly when you see him, a small flicker of relief crossing your face.

“Joost?” Your voice is barely a whisper.

He’s at your side in an instant, grabbing your hand gently, afraid he might hurt you if he isn’t careful. “I’m here,” he says, and his voice cracks the real gravity of the situation hitting him as he takes your frigid hand in his, you had never felt so cold. "I'm here angel, I've got you."

You try to smile, but it falters almost immediately. “What happened? What time is it?” You're confused, scared Everything is so unfamiliar and your memory is nothing but a blur. You try to grab Joost's hand back but you're far too weak, your fingers doing little more than curling around his palm.

Before Joost can even find words, the doctor clears his throat softly. “Miss Y/L/N,” he begins, stepping closer to your bedside. His tone is calm, careful, “You collapsed earlier in the evening. And you've lost a significant amount of blood. We managed to stabilize you, but… there are some things we need to talk about.”

You glance between him and Joost, you giggle slightly, “Am I dying?” It seems like the most absurd thing to ask in this situation- hoping to lighten the serious mood.

But your face drops when you realize neither Joost nor the doctor are laughing back.

The doctor shakes his head quickly. “You’re stable. For now. But your test results show-”

"Please-" Joost suddenly cuts the doctor off, "Wait. Please. Let me-"

Your brows furrow, your lip beginning to quiver as you look at Joost- he had never sounded so sad, so desperate. Were you really dying?

"What…" You trail off, your voice already breaking before you can even begin to grasp the gravity of your situation, "What What is it Joost?"

"Oh sweet girl," He whispers, brushing his free hand against your cheek, "I- I don't know how to tell you this," He shakes his head, eyes beginning to get teary.

This nearly sends you over the edge, you'd never seen Joost this expressive, this emotional- you thought for sure you would never see him cry.

"What- What? What is it Joost?" You're beginning to cry too, the tension in the room chipping away at you until you can't bear it anymore.

"You're…you're pregnant." Joost can barely get the words out, but for you- for a moment it's as if a weight is lifted off your shoulders. It's unexpected- perhaps not ideal for sure- but you're not dying, you're just pregnant. A faint smile graces your lips at the realization, against all odds, you're pregnant. This had to be some sort of miracle.

The doctor clears his throat behind Joost, his presence suddenly pressing in like cold air. He steps forward, clipboard in hand, expression calm but grim.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he begins gently, “I’m afraid it’s not as simple as being pregnant.”

You freeze, your relief replaced by a creeping feeling of dread. “What… what do you mean?”

The doctor exhales, carefully choosing his words. “The pregnancy is placing a severe strain on your body, and the bleeding you experienced tonight could have been fatal.”

Your chest tightens, and you instinctively clutch at Joost’s hand. “Fatal?” The word tastes bitter on your tongue.

He nods slowly, voice low. “If this continues, it could overwhelm your system. We can try to support you medically, but the only way to ensure your survival is to terminate the pregnancy.”

The words hit you like a punch to the stomach. Your stomach twists violently, your mind flailing. Terminate…? You shake your head, beginning to whisper to yourself, strings of no's falling from your lips. You couldn't- you could never bring yourself to do that.

Joost’s grip on your hand tightens, so much that it almost hurts. “Angel…” His voice trembles, raw, it makes your heart ache. “You heard him. This isn’t- it's not, it isn’t safe. You can’t do this.”

You shake your head furiously, tears spilling over your lashes as you shut your eyes tight. Hoping this is all just another nightmare, that you'll wake up soon, in bed, next to Joost and this will all be over. “No, Joost, no. I can’t." your voice cracks, “I can’t end it. I won’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, almost pleading, “listen to me. You nearly died tonight. Do you understand that? You were cold…there was blood everywhere…and I couldn’t even tell if you were still breathing.” His voice breaks, the memory flashing behind his eyes. “I can’t go through that again. I can’t lose you.”

You try to speak, but your throat closes. All you can manage is a whisper. “But it’s ours, Joost. It’s… it’s a part of us.” You clutch at his wrist weakly, searching his face for even a flicker of understanding. “You don’t understand, I feel it. I can’t explain it but… it’s alive, Joost. It’s alive, and I can’t just-" You're not sure if you really believe it, that whatever is inside of you is really alive. You had shed almost all of your belief from your past life, but this, this seemed too far, this was all too real.

He shakes his head hard, his jaw tightening, eyes glinting wet under the fluorescent light, blue and striking, it hurts so bad to see those eyes that once captivated you filled with so much hurt. “It’s killing you.” He presses his palm against your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

You try to turn away, but he doesn’t let you. “Joost, please,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Please don’t ask me to do that. Don’t make me choose.”

“I’m not asking you to choose,” he says, though his voice betrays the lie. “I need you to live.”

The doctor, silent until now, steps forward cautiously, his tone low but firm. “Miss Y/L/N, I know this is a difficult conversation, but Mr. Klein is right. Your body won’t sustain this much longer.”

You barely hear him, your world narrows to Joost’s trembling hands. He leans closer, forehead resting against yours. You squeeze your eyes shut, sobs breaking free as you cling to him, the reality clawing at your heart. Between your own heartbeat and his cold, lifeless pallor, you can feel the cruel irony of it all. Joost's death-filled body pleading for your fragile, fleeting life.

“I can’t,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “I can’t let it go.”

Joost exhales shakily, his voice cracking as he murmurs, “You're going to kill yourself trying to keep it.”

"Please stop," You sniffle, "Just, please, don't remind me for a few minutes. Just. Please. Stop."

The doctor clears his throat, bringing the attention back to him,

"Look," He breathes out, his voice more stern now, "I understand that this is a difficult choice to make, and nobody can force you to do anything…But I cannot, in good conscience allow you to continue this pregnancy without understanding that the risks associated are very real." The doctor pauses for a moment, allowing you to take in his warning before he continues, "Miss Y/L/N, I don't like to use this word when talking about medical practice, but it is a genuine miracle that you are here, breathing right now. And if you decide to continue with this pregnancy, I cannot guarantee that you will survive even a week from now."

Your jaw slacks as you try to gasp, but it feels as if no air can even enter your lungs. A shaky hand raises to your stomach, hesitantly smoothing over it, back and forth. Your ears begin to ring as your vision blurs, and it's as if you're stepping out of your own body, like you're not really there. This couldn't be happening to you not you.

"I-I get it, I understand." The words fall from your mouth, but it's as if you're not even the one talking, like some other force has taken you over, robotic, numb, "I understand. Could you just- um. Could you leave?"

"What?" The doctor asks, shaking his head, like he hasn't heard you properly.

"I want to be alone." Your voice remains monotone, holding everything in until it's safe to release.

"A-alright," The doctor nods, his lips pressing into a straight line, "I would like to keep you here for monitoring until you are certain about how you want to proceed. The nurses will stop by frequently to check on you. I'd like to come by again later to inform you of your options regarding termination."

It sounded so cold, so clinical. Your options, termination, like this was just another procedure, as if the word didn't hollow you out.

The soft click of the door closing behind the doctor feels louder than it should, it feels so final- knowing you have to make a decision now.

Even the faint noises that come from the room, the steady beep of a monitor, the drip of your IV, Joost's shallow breathing beside you- it's unbearable.

You can't look up at Joost, keeping your head straight as your palm continues to rest flat against your stomach, moving it back and forth as if the thing below it was something to be nurtured. A week, maybe less, maybe more.

"Angel…" Joost's voice breaks through the ringing in your ears.

You still can't look at him, "Don't."

Joost swallows hard and you can hear it in his throat, just how much it hurts for him to speak, "You know, what he said-"

"I know what he said," You snap, and your voice is louder than you expected, louder than you even thought you could speak at a time like this. Then it's quieter, trembling with exhaustion, tears beginning to well in your eyes again as the realization comes crumbling down back to you, "I know." You bite your lip, sucking back tears with a loud sniffle, "B-but, I mean- I mean," You finally look back up at Joost, eyes wet and sunken in, exhausted, "H-he said it was a miracle I was alive, what if, I mean what if-" You look down at your stomach, at your hand that continues to absentmindedly rub against it, "What if this is a miracle?"

Joost shakes his head, jaw tensing, eyebrows narrowing, "Don't be stupid." He almost scoffs, and it hurts. You know he's right but it hurts. You want nothing more than for him to coddle you, than to tell you you're making the right choice, but you know he can't do that, not when you both very well know what it means for you.

You don't have anything else to say, instead your mind reels. Had Joost lied to you when he had assured you that no life could ever come from him, someone who was so very dead? Had he lied just to take your innocence? To stain you? Your lip begins to quiver as you try to kick the thought from your head, no, not Joost- he wouldn't, would he? Had this not been his fault? Was God trying to punish you?

You try to catch your breath, as the air enters your lungs you suddenly realize just how tense your body really is. Your head, your back, your stomach, it's all so stiff, it all feels so wrong. You recognize that you probably should be in pain now, but its quelled by whatever drugs they're pumping through your IV. You wondered if you could call in a nurse to try to up the dosage so you'd fall asleep- finding yourself finally unafraid of dreaming, as any nightmare that could come to you now would pale in comparison to what you were experiencing now.

"I want to go home." You slump your head to the side, sniffling slightly. If you were going to die you'd much prefer it to be in the comfort and safety of your own four walls, and not this cold, uncomfortable hospital.

"I know angel, I know." Joost sighs, his hand reaching out to cup yours above your stomach, the two of you hovering over the life that you had created, a blasphemous miracle, one that demanded your life as its tithe.

"It's ours," You begin to weep, your voice raising an octave, sharp and pitchy.

"But it's not meant to be." Joost shakes his head, holding your hand tighter.

You don't want to argue here, far too tired, your brain far too fogged to even muster up a real justification of why you wanted to go through with this. Only that it felt like you had to, that it was your burden, your cross to bear- and you wondered what worse fate would befall you if you were somehow to try to avoid this. Either way, you're a dead woman walking.

About an hour later as you dozed in and out of sleep the doctor had come back to explain to you how he would like to proceed if you decide to terminate the pregnancy. Since it was still early days, he would explain, you wouldn't need surgical intervention, instead you'd be able to terminate at home with a series of two pills- that the whole process would be over in a matter of a few days.

At home, you nod, at home. Your mind reels, this was your ticket home, to die on your own terms. It was certainly easier to lie about having taken a pill, both to the doctor and to Joost, than to lie about having a medical procedure done.

You take a deep breath in, the thought of lying to Joost weighing heavily on your soul, but it wasn't like it would be a guilt you'd have to live too long with. Surely, you'd be dead before Joost even noticed that you had lied about taking the pills.

"I-I think." You stutter, "I-I think I'll, I want to do that." You nod fiercely, biting your lip, tears spilling from your eyes, Joost blissfully unaware of the real reason you're crying- the fact that you know you're certain to die soon.

"Alright," The doctor nods, "I'd still like to monitor you for a few more hours, but trust, this is a very safe and effective method of abortion, I will send in a prescription for you and you'll be free to leave soon. I know this wasn't an easy choice for you, but I have full confidence that you will recover once the pregnancy has been terminated."

"Thank you doctor." You nod, a faint half smile on your face as he walks out the door once more.

"I think you made the right choice, angel," Joost assures as he picks up both of your hands in his, "You are so brave, I'm very proud of you, you know that?"

"I hope I did," You try to retain the smile on your face, staring up at Joost through wet eyes. His relief makes the lying worth it, to know he won't have to continue day by day with the anticipation that you're going to die with this baby still inside of you.

The end is near, that you know for sure.

It had only been three days, but everything had gotten so much worseYour pain was near constant, paralyzing, and the blood loss was so severe that you had spent much of the three days you'd been home from the hospital in the bathtub, trying to mitigate the amount of bloodied sheets and clothesJoost would inevitably have to clean after you were gone.

Your certain demise had only been made so much more clear when Joost had come home from work in the early hours of the morning yesterday, telling you about how it had been nagging him so horribly that this pregnancy was even able to come about at all. He had been frantic for an answer to what had even caused this in the first place, and it was not like he knew some wise, elder vampire who he could go to that would explain to him the ins and outs of being undead. So, he'd gone to the only other place he knew he could, the internet.

You'd furrow your brows at him when he had brought it up, not that you weren't interested to know why this had happened to you either, but if it hadn't been so morbid it would have almost made you laugh. What an absurd thing to be looking up while you're at your job; Can vampires get a human pregnant???

But what Joost had told you did not inspire any laughter within you, instead it had been pure, nagging dread. He would explain with hesitance what he had found through passages scattered across paranormal forums and digitized manuscripts of medieval theologians, or old Catholic folklore.

He'd say that most places he looked confirmed what he already knew, that a vampire cannot create life in a human the way a man can.

But your circumstances had been different, you had been pure, you had been a virgin. And in a woman untouched by sin, life may be brought within her anyways, but it wasn't human life- this as much you knew. Because your womb had not been "claimed" not by mortal man, it had been in a way, unguarded. Your purity has made you vulnerable. While a vessel for life, you had also been a vessel for evil.

It wasn't as if life had really been brought into you, but rather some ancient, dark entity. Whatever evil forces or dark magic that had made Joost what he is, had clung to you now too. In a way- the baby wasn't even really Joost's, but the product of an evil that had been put inside him once too, turning you into nothing but a host for that darkness to feed on.

That had confirmed it for you, that there was really a devil and true evil in the world, and that you had been claimed by it and made unclean. It was then when he had told you, that you knew you had made the right decision, to die with this baby inside of you. It may not have really been Joost's, but it had surely been yours.

It was morning now, and you'd barely been awake 30-minutes before the pain had already begun to reach unbearable levels. Joost lays next to you in bed, having not slept a wink from when he had returned home from work, kept up by your constant tossing and turning and gentle sobs. It was all easily explainable now, you'd say the pain and blood had been as a result of the termination process, that you had been up all night crying because of just how traumatic this situation had been for you. And while that wasn't exactly wrong, it had been traumatizing instead in other ways, the knowing that you could die at practically any moment now weighing heavily on you.

You know the bleeding will start soon, and it was better to make your way to the bathroom sooner rather than later, not wanting to risk bloodying the sheets- especially not while Joost was still laying in them. You imagined just how hard this was for him, his natural urge to be drawn to blood- you wondered how horribly hungry this had all made him, or if he could even muster up an appetite given the circumstances. Was the smell of blood that no doubt permeated the small apartment driving him insane? Was he suppressing the urges to hurt you, to devour you whole?

You reach a hand out to your bedside table to steady yourself as you get out of bed to start your day of sitting in the bathtub crying for twelve hours while you practically bled out. Part of you was glad that this was all going to be over soon, that your soul would soon, hopefully meet some peace- that was of course, if you hadn't already been doomed to hell.

"Do you need help?" Joost suddenly sits up from his position in bed, sensing your movements.

You look back at him as you bring one foot down to the ground,

"No, I- I'm okay," Your voice barely there after all the wailing you had been doing for days on end. It burned to talk, and that fact had been noticeable in the harsh, screechy sound of your voice.

An acute dizziness overtakes you as you sit all the way up, setting your second foot down on the ground to finally get up out of bed. By now you're used to it, and you wait a few seconds for the sensation to pass before, gripping the bedside table, hard, and finally standing up.

But you're only up for a split moment before you're crashing down again, hand still held tight onto the bedside table, one of the drawers spills onto the floor with your body, both you and the small wooden object hitting the ground with a bang!

It takes a second for you to regain your vision, black spots filling your eyesight as you lay motionless on the ground. You hear the bed shift and eventually the wood floors creak as Joost races out of bed to your side.

"Oh angel, " He coos, kneeling down by your side, "Are you okay?" You can tell he's trying to hide the panic in his voice, "What happened?"

"Y-yeah," You spit out, "Fine. I just lost my balance." In the grand scheme of the pain you'd felt this week, your little tumble had felt like nothing, it was like comparing a pinprick to a gunshot wound.

"You sure?" Joost asks, his hand reaching behind your head to lift it up, and get you off the ground.

"Mhm," You hum, turning your head to the side to look at Joost while he picks you up. But at the same time you glance over, Joost seems to too, both of your eyes meeting at the same point on the hardwood floors, trained in on the little amber bottle that sits spilled over from your bedside table which had also taken a toppling.

Joost's brows furrow as they hone in on the object, and your heart drops to your stomach, your ears beginning to ring again. Your whole body goes cold, fuzzy as the reality of what’s just happened sinks in. You don’t try to move, don’t try to breathe, you just watch as Joost, with one hand still behind your head, slowly reaches down with the other, hovering for a moment before he picks up the bottle.

You can see the label even from here. The name of the hospital. The doctor’s name. The small, unmistakable word: mifepristone

Your throat tightens so hard it hurts. You close your eyes, squeezing them tight, you can't bear to look at Joost, not now- and part of you hopes that when you open your eyes he'll be gone, and this will all be over.

You use what little strength you have to sit yourself up, backing yourself up against the bed, almost as if you're trying to escape Joost.

Joost's lip curls as he holds the bottle in his pale, tattooed hands, the plastic object shaking as a result of his tremors, the clearly untaken pills rattling inside with each sharp movement.

Joost's jaw slacks for a moment, his mouth opens like he's trying to speak, but nothing comes out, so he tries again, wetting his quivering lips, "Y-you lied?" You had never heard him sound so sad, so defeated, watching the light leave his eyes as the blissful fantasy where the two of you had plenty more time together get snatched right from underneath him.

"I- I did it for y-" You try to explain yourself but Joost doesn't let you,

"Y-You were just planning to die and not tell me?" Joost shakes his head, eyes widening, like he can't believe this is happening, that this is real. "What- I was just supposed to come home one day, or walk in a room and find you gone."

"Isn't that better than just watching, waiting for me to die?" You try to muster up whatever power you can to raise your voice at him, to drive home your point, to get it into his head that this is what you want.

"Neither is okay!" Joost sucks a breath in, "You could save yourself! You don't have to die!"

"Yes I do Joost! You don't understand, this is my burden to bear!" You begin to sob, more uncontrollably than you have at any point these last few days.

Joost’s breath stutters, his hand tightening around the pill bottle until the plastic creaks under the pressure. You can tell he’s trying to hold himself together, but his face ohhh his face you know that something, something inside of him is coming undone.

“Your burden?” His voice cracks, and he gestures toward your stomach, the pills still shaking in his hand. “That-this isn’t just yours. You think I don’t know what it’s doing to you? You think I want this?”

You press your palms to your face, shaking your head, tears spilling hot and fast. “I know it’s killing me, Joost, I know,” you choke out, “but it’s mine.”

Joost sits there in silence, the air between you thick with grief and disbelief. His eyes flicker between your face and the bottle. He lowers his voice, barely above a whisper now, “Do you even know what you’re asking me to do?”

You look up at him through wet lashes, sniffling, “I’m not asking you to do anything.”

“Yes, you are,” he says, shaking his head, voice breaking. “You’re asking me to watch you die.”

The words hang, thick, sticking to the air like the cigarettes he smokes. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out this time. You just sit there, trembling, the sound of the pills rattling in his hand echoing in your ears.

"I'm sorry, Joost" You whisper, and he nods.

"So am I." You can hardly read the expression on his face, but it's like nothing you've ever seen from him before, like something has changed. You can't even pinpoint why he's sorry, you were the one deciding to go through with this, he had nothing to be sorry for.

The rest of your day had been spent in utter silence besides the sporadic fits of crying either one would break out into every so often. You were back in the bathroom, clutching your abdomen in pain as Joost sat behind you, holding you- he was surely beyond furious with you, upset in a way he could never articulate, but still he stayed, wordlessly with his arms wrapped around your waist in the empty bathtub as you sit in his lap. When any breath now could be your last, you were glad that despite Joost's clear upset that he had decided to stay with you, his presence was comforting even if silent.

You settle back against Joost's chest, when he finally speaks,

"You know," He begins, his voice wavering, anxious, "I'm just, I'm really sorry this has to happen to you."

"Yeah," you whisper, hanging your head.

"I know it's not fair, angel." His cold breath tickles your shoulder as he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your skin, "It shouldn't have to be this way,"

You sigh, and it's almost of relief, feeling as though it seemed Joost was beginning to come to terms with your decision, even if he could not fully understand it.

"I'm sorry," He says again, voice breaking, on the verge of tears, "I'm so so so sorry, but I told you I would never let anything hurt you." His voice begins to get louder as a sob tears through him.

"What do you me-" You're cut off by the feeling of pressure pushing against your throat, and it makes you gasp but you cannot suck any air in. Your eyes widen as the horror hits you, that it's Joost's arm that is wrapped around your neck, squeezing tight, restricting the oxygen from your lungs.

Your arms begin to flail, you bring them up to your neck, trying to slap Joost's arms to get you out of his chokehold, the fear giving you the most strength you've experienced in the last few days. You claw at Joost's forearms, trying with all your might to get him off of you, but it proves no use.

"Joost. Stop. Please!" You cry, your body beginning to thrash, legs kicking wildly beneath you, banging wildly against the porcelain sides of the bathtub, "You're hurting me! Please." Your words don't even sound human, your please deep, gargled, animalistic as your throat is squeezed and the oxygen in your brain depletes. You can feel yourself fading, losing feeling in your hands as you slowly stop clawing at Joost's arms, your legs ceasing their kicking as they grow tingly, "You're scaring me!"

But Joost doesn't stop, instead he only cries, repeating over and over again how sorry he is, it's frantic, almost manic the way he pleads for forgiveness as he actively tries to end your life.

His arm lingers on your throat for what feels like hours, but it's surely only a few seconds, maybe a minute, before you can suddenly breathe again, the pressure relieves from your throat. You gasp, coughing as the air finally returns to your lungs. You still can't quite see, still on the brink of unconsciousness as your chest rises and falls in large, lethargic breaths. You're too far gone now to even fully register this betrayal, to register what Joost just attempted to do to you.

Joost steps out from behind you, letting your head fall back against the bathroom tile with a thud, though, it doesn't hurt much given your near incapacitated state.

You hear the cabinet under the sink open with a squeak, followed by Joost's rummaging. Your eyes flutter as you try to watch whatever it is that Joost is doing, slowly pulling away from the cabinet with something small and shiny in his hands. Your head tilts to the side, trying to make sense of what you're seeing in your delirious state.

You blink a few times as Joost stands above you, and you still can't quite make out what he has in his hands as he begins to sob loud sorries again. But something about the whole scene makes your heart sink all over again, and your adrenaline kicks in once more.

You watch as Joost's arm takes a quick swing, and suddenly there's a sharp pain in your neck, one to rival even the pains you had been feeling all week. If you were in any way capable of movement, by now your hands would have flown to your neck to try to protect yourself. But you're just sat there, paralyzed with the knowledge that your boyfriend just tried to slit your throat. You're bleeding now, you can feel it, warm, wet blood pouring from the wound that Joost had given you down your chest. It was clear he hadn't gone deep enough, or hit any fatal veins or arteries, if he had you would have been dead in an instant, instead, you were slowly being drained of your life, with no way to fight back or do anything about it.

You can't think of what else to do now, but to, in your final moments, pray. Pray, as your head slumps to the porcelain below, that wherever you're about to go, you'll be saved from eternal damn nation, that you'll be spared from the fires of hell.

"God," You tremble, I am guilty, b-but, please, do not tu-turn from me!" For a split moment, using the very last of your strength, you push out your last words, high pitched, blood curdling, "God, R-remember me, your servant."

Joost raises his arm once more and suddenly nothing.

"Shit shit shit shit shit, fuck I'm so sorry, oh I'm so sorry angel! The words fall out of Joost's mouth, quick, messy, frantic, with tears in his eyes, and snot pouring out of his nose. "Ohhh," He sobs, voice wavering, almost howling, "Ohh what did I do."

Your blood is warm as it splashes back at him, it's everywhere, and he gags, feeling the stomach bile burning its way up through his throat. Never in his time as a vampire had blood been so utterly repulsive to him. But Joost couldn't focus on the gruesome scene before you, he had to make sure he could turn you before you were really gone for good.

Joost turns the small pair of manicure scissors he had just used to puncture your throat onto himself. He winces as he presses the blade down into his wrist, gasping as he watches a deep line of red pour from the fresh wound. Joost drops the scissors, and they hit the bathroom tile with a clank as Joost squeezes his wrist, trying to get as much of his own blood as he can out of the wound.

Joost sits up on his knees, hovering over your slumped body in the bathtub, and with his free hand he cups your jaw, pushing his thumb between your lips and your teeth, prying your mouth open.

Joost puts his wrist up against your still warm lips, making sure a sufficient amount of blood drips into your mouth. He waits there for a moment, making sure you get your fill he'd never done this before, and all he could do was beg that he got this right.

"That's right," A small smile coming to Joost's face as your body begins to make slight movements, indicating that you were indeed no longer dead. "That's right," He repeats as he squeezes his wrist again, replenishing the blood that flows from the deep would, "Good girl, drink that, you're so good." He knows you can't hear him, but he can't help but pretend that you do as he mumbles sweet praises as your body slowly begins to come back to life, fueled by Joost's unholy blood.

Joost finally removes his wrist from your lips, leaving a dark sanguine stain across your lower mouth and chin. But the stains on you pale in comparison to the state the rest of the bathroom is in, blood spatter on almost every surface- Joost surely had his cleaning work cut out for him.

Joost presses his thumb to your throat, moving it down, as if you were a dog he was trying to get to swallow a pill, in his attempts to make sure you swallowed all of the blood he had spilled into your mouth.

Satisfied that you had swallowed every last drop, Joost finally backs away from your body, watching as you take slow, shallow breaths. He knows it will be awhile until you wake up, and in that time he can clean up, and try to find the nicest way to explain to you what had happened, but for now, all he wants to do is bask in the relief that now you are his forever.

You blink a few times as your eyes open, the room is still dim, and you can tell it's not quite morning. Everything hurts- which as of late wasn't something new, but today something felt different. It wasn't the same kind of pain that you were used to, in fact, the pain in your abdomen seemed to have ceased completely.

You begin to sit up, your hand working its way up to your neck, where most of your pain lies. You must have fallen asleep funny.

You blink a few more times as the blankets fall down around your waist and you look around the room. You squint, wondering if your eyesight had always been this good in the dark. Perhaps it was not as late out as you thought it had been, maybe the sun really had begun to rise just outside your blinds.

You're startled when you realize that Joost isn't sleeping next to you. You swallow thickly, the last thing you can remember is getting into an argument about having not taken your pills. Had Joost been so angry that he had walked out on you? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, the thought of your imminent death, of dying alone. Or maybe perhaps Joost had gotten holed up at work for longer than he had anticipated. It wouldn't be the first time that Joost had been asked to cover an early morning after working the graveyard shift. You, at least hoped, that it had been the latter.

It had all felt a little strange though, the thought of dying, how all of a sudden it felt so foreign, and not quite as scary. Maybe this was a sign you were getting close, that this was your own weird seven phases of grief but for yourself, and you'd finally reached acceptance.

You find yourself being able to get out of bed with surprising ease, and your stomach rumbles, realizing how hungry you are. Now that you thought about it, you probably had not eaten at all yesterday, which would explain why you're all of a sudden so ravenous. You creep out of bed, down the hall and to the kitchen. Something in the apartment feels off, cold. But you chalk it up to Joost's missing presence.

Besides, you can hardly think about any of it as this hunger takes hold, an ache so deep you can feel it in every part of your body. You're starving, it’s sharp, as though something inside you is steering your body before your mind can catch up. You move toward the kitchen, almost by compulsion. As you make your way throughout the apartment, something smells delightful. An intense smell you can't quite put your finger on, but it only deepens your hunger- one of your neighbors must be cooking breakfast and it's seeping through the vents.

You open up a pantry in the kitchen, desperate to eat the first thing you can get your hands on, a box of plain cereal. It's perhaps not the most exciting breakfast, but you don't care, you just need to eat. You nearly rip open the top of the box, and shove your fingers inside, scooping it up, and shoveling handfuls of the beige, almost cardboard tasting cereal into your mouth.

You frown almost immediately at how unsatisfying it is- it must be stale, for as bland as it was, you had never been this off put by cereal. You put the box down, whipping around to open the fridge and find something else to eat.

But that's when it hits you- as quick as the hunger had come on, so does the nausea. You'd been wondering when you would get your first bout of morning sickness, and you guessed this was it now. You slam the fridge door and find yourself speeding towards the bathroom, seconds away from losing all of the cereal you had just consumed.

You're so caught up in making sure you don't get sick all over yourself or the floor, that it hardly registers to you that the bathroom door is closed. You barge in, making a b-line for the toilet, but you're unable to make it, throwing up a nasty clump of beige mush and stomach acid in the sink. You wince as you look down at the stomach churning mixture in the sink, dreading cleaning it up.

You back away from the sink, and that's when you notice it, Joost. kneeling on the bathroom floor, scrubbing the bathtub. You're hit with a wave of relief, knowing full well now that Joost did not in fact, walk out on you.

You're about to ask what he's doing, when you notice it, the red streaks that coat the walls and the floor. You blink a few times, looking around, heart rate increasing. You know you'd lost a lot of blood over the last few days, but it hadn't been this bad, right?

It's all so odd, you blink a few times, your face twisting, lips trembling, trying to make sense of the dull, heavy stillness in your body, trying to understand the way your chest barely rises when you try to breathe, or why you feel so cold.

You continue to glance frantically around the room when you notice it- the very worst of it- not of blood, but of you.

Your eyes meet your own in the bathroom mirror in front of you, but only barely. It's like your reflection is not really there, it's like a ghost, translucent. And suddenly it all makes sense, the lack of pain, the emptiness inside you, your heightened vision, the hunger, the nausea, the smell- that was your blood you were smelling.

You look back at Joost, eyes wide for a moment before you're scrambling out of the bathroom, desperate to get away from the scene of whatever the fuck that was.

Joost follows quickly after you, chasing you into the bedroom. You nearly throw yourself onto your bed, bringing your knees to your chest, trembling as you stare up at Joost, who just looks at you, lost.

"I'm dead…" You trail off, sucking in a breath as the realization hits, "I'm dead aren't I Joost?!" you yell, voice cracking, scraping raw against the dryness of your throat.

Joost flinches, but just barely. His lips press into a hard line. His eyes dart away looking everywhere but at you. His reaction tells you everything you need to know.

"Oh, God," You whimper, "And my baby…" You try to breathe in but your chest aches, and you can barely get in enough air, "My baby is dead too?"

He looks at you briefly, but not in the way you need him to.

"Obviously…" His voice is colder than you had anticipated, detached as he looks past you, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

"My baby!" You repeat again, crossing your arms against your stomach, fingers bearing into your sides, ripping at your flesh, but there’s nothing there, no warmth, just a hollow ache where life used to stir.

"It was going to kill you!" Joost suddenly stands up, voice echoing off the walls, yelling in a way you'd never heard before, in a tone that just a few days ago he would never dare speak to you in.

"No, You killed me Joost!" You point a finger at him, and he's standing so close to you now that you nearly poke him in the stomach. You stagger back, shaking your head, your voice breaking through sobs.

"I had to…" His voice suddenly breaks, "I had to…" He begins to lose his breath, "You were going to die anyway. I just made sure that I was around when it happened, I saved you."

"Saved me?" Your voice is practically a growl by now, "You turned me into a monster, you made me like you!"

Joost’s face breaks, his eyes flashing with something raw, some unbearable regret, but it’s too late.

"Is that what you think of me?"

You can’t answer. Your throat locks up. You can't even face him, knowing just how deep your words cut him.

"Do you think I wanted this?" His eyes welling up with tears, "I just couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking about what if… what-" He takes a moment to collect his thoughts breathing heavily, "I couldn't stop imagining you dying, scared and alone. What if I wasn't there to stop it…. a-and I thought that maybe, maybe if I was the one who did it it wouldn't be so scary. I thought it would be… gentle. That when you woke up, I’d be there, and we’d be together forever." He goes on and on, rambling half to you and half to himself, letting every thought that passes through his head come out as he begins to pace around the room.

"But-" Your lip quivers, "But you don't get to decide that for me, Joost."

"You don't understand!" His pacing stops as he turns to face you, voice loud and forceful, your interjection ripping him from his racing thoughts, "I-I saw it. I knew you were going to die…. and I just, I couldn't bear it… I didn't want to. You were everything I had left that was still warm. Everything that reminded me I wasn’t completely gone. When I touched you, I could almost pretend I still had a soul."

You swallow hard, "And now I don't"

"No," Joost tilts his head, "No, no angel," He scrambles toward where you sit on the bed, "No don't say that…" He tries to plead with you as he kneels before you, suddenly seeming so small.

"Joost…" You whisper, voice cracking, "I'm dead."

"I know, I know…" He reassures, his palm grazing over your knee in an attempt to bring you some comfort, "I know it's different now… but I can still feel it, your soul, it's there, don't tell me it isn't. I gave it back to you, I gave it to you forever."

You stare down at him, your throat tight, nearly unable to speak as you try to rationalize Joost's ramblings- wondering if you would have done the same.

"Forever…" You trail off, voice broken and weak, "Joost, I can't feel my heart."

Joost's hand is still on your knee, and he doesn't pull away, his voice trembling as the panic in him rises once again, "But it's still you," he insists, voice soft, yet fierce, demanding, "It's still you, angel, I can see it in your eyes- you're still my sweet little angel."

"I don't feel like it…"You shake your head, your breath uneven, hands twitching, "It just feels like nothing, like I'm not even really here…" You press your palm to where your heart should beat. But Joost quickly grabs your hand, and presses it against his own chest, feeling his heartbeat, equally as slow.

"I know you feel that, angel" He keeps your hand firmly pressed against your chest, making sure you really feel the slow, lethargic pumps of his heart beneath your palm, "We're still here."

You look down at your hands, his covering yours, his pulse slow, faint but real. The rhythm is wrong, but it’s something. You close your eyes and try to pretend it’s your own heartbeat you’re feeling.

“Joost…” your voice cracks, soft as a sigh. “It’s not the same. I can’t-

“I know,” he shakes his head. “I know it’s not. But it’s not the end, angel. You'll get used to it, it'll be okay.” He looks up, eyes wet, breath unsteady. “I just wanted you here with me,” he says quietly. “That’s all I wanted. I didn’t know how to save you any other way.”

You feel his body shake beneath your fingers, small, shallow sobs breaking through the silence. The sound of it undoes you.

You reach out with your free hand, brushing your fingers through his hair, tentative at first. “Joost…” you whisper. “I don’t know what I am now,” you admit, "I'm just so confused Joost…" You trail off, biting your lip, hesitant to ask, unsure if you really want to know the answer to the question that's about to come out of your mouth, "What happened, Joost, what happened, how did you do it- I can't remember, I just want to know what happened." Your sobs begin again, desperate to know what had happened to you, how you had ended up this way.

"I tried to make it quick," He averted his eyes from you once again, no way could he look you in the face as he recounted the horribleness of last night. "It's not like it is in the movies you know, thought, you don't just bite someone and they turn they have to di-I- was going to-fuck I can't do this, I can't tell you this."

"Joost, you have to…" Your body tenses, "Joost," your voice cracks, "I deserve to know."

"A person has to die first before they're turned. But I knew, if I waited until that thing killed you, there was a possibility I wouldn't have gotten you quick enough. So I- when I saw the pills, that's when I decided"… He trails off for a moment, letting you fill in the blanks "I wanted to wait… until you were asleep," He pauses, waiting to collect his heaving breaths, "But- but you wouldn't sleep, you just, you were in so much pain f-from the baby, and so when-" He stops again, his eyes shutting tight, tears streaming down his cheeks as he relived the terrible thing he had done, "When I was holding you, in the tub, I tried to- I put my arm around your neck."

By now your sobs had turned into nearly full on screams, and you can barely hear Joost's voice over the sound of your own shrieks.

"But- but you started to cry, and you just kept asking me why I was hurting you so bad, and- and you were so scared, and I didn't want you to go out scared, and I couldn't-"

Your eyes widen, mortified at what had happened to you,

"It was taking too long, so I- I let you go, and you were already so weak, y-you couldn't get up to even try to run away…" Joost begins to rock slightly, voice trembling like he was really there, back in that moment, "So I- I grabbed, I knew you kept those little manicure scissors in the cabinet under the sink, so I grabbed them, and I-" Joost closes his eyes, shutting them tight wincing as he continues speaking, "I stabbed you, in the neck, b-but I was so stupid, and my hands were shaking so bad, that I missed, I missed and I hurt you so bad, and you wouldn't die…and you started to plead, not to me, but with God."

You bite the inside of your cheeks, trying to resist further sobs as Joost details what he had done to you,

"I- I don't know why but I let you speak, I l-let you pray, I thought maybe if you thought God was there… maybe it would make you less scared… but then… but then I finally did it, I hit the perfect vein in your neck and the blood, ohhh there was so much blood- but b-but I had no time to waste, s-so I cut my own wrist, and before you were finally gone, I- I made you drink from it, I gave you my blood… and now…now…"

"I'm a vampire." You whisper.

"Yes.."

You stare at him, your lips parting, but nothing comes out. The room feels wrong, like the air itself is heavy, thick, pressing down on you. You look down at Joost, down at his hands, one still resting on your knee, the same hands that held the instrument that took your life.

"You killed me…" Your voice is almost squeaky.

“I did,” he admits, voice raw, trembling. “I did it so you wouldn’t suffer. So you wouldn’t die alone, scared… without me.” His hands tremble as his fingernails dig into your knee, “I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear to see you gone, angel. I couldn't."

"And the baby…" You're almost too scared to ask, "Is it… still inside me…"

"Y-yes," Joost trembles, "B-but it- well, it won't-"

"I understand," You sigh,

"I saved the pills." He points towards your bedside table, no longer knocked over, and the little amber bottle sits on top, "It's better to take them sooner than later, if you take them now it should be out soon…"

You nod, unprepared for the next two days of your life, for the bleeding and the pain. But what was two days when now you have forever…

"I'm sorry," Joost cries his head falling into your lap, "I'm so sorry angel, but I promised- I promised I wouldn't let anything hurt you."

"Joost," You sniffle, "You hurt me."

"B-but," He blubbers, "I brought you back, I saved you too. I did, I kept my promise- I promised you- and I just-I just had to because" Joost looks up from your lap, hands moving to the side of your face, eyes searching yours frantically, “Angel… I know what I did… I know it’s too much, I know, but I couldn’t let you go. I couldn’t let anything hurt you, I just… I kept picturing me coming home… and finding you gone and, I couldn't let that happen because…. because I love you, I love you so much, and I need you."

His confession hangs between you, trembling and raw. His hands on your cheeks, thumbs shaking as they graze the corners of your lips, tracing over the tear tracks that haven’t dried yet.

You can’t look away from him. His face is open in a way you’ve never seen before—utterly undone.

“Joost…” you whisper, but the words die in your throat.

“I love you,” he says again, quieter this time, like the words themselves might break if he says them too loudly. “I love you. I love you so much, angel. You have to know that.”

His voice cracks as he keeps talking, his breath hitching between words. “I love you… And you can't understand what it was like, every moment you breathed next to me, knowing that any one of them could be your last. You don't know what it feels like to know you may only have mere days fuck it hours left with someone you love and I just… I love you so much.”

You reach up, weakly brushing your fingers against his wrist. “Joost…”

“I just wanted you to stay. I can still feel it, the way you went still under my hands, the way you stopped breathing.”

"Joost stop…" You grip his wrists, unable to hear any more of this, "I-I can't."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, angel, I'll stop, I just need you to know I love you, and I will never ever, ever hurt you again."

And for some reason you believe him, and maybe it's because deep down you know that you would have done the same.

You can’t look away from him. The guilt in his eyes cuts through you, but beneath it there’s something else. That same warmth that always made you feel safe, that feeling that made you even let him in in the first place. You know what he did, but as you look at him now, broken and desperate, you feel a terrible, aching pull towards him still.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I know, Joost.”

He looks at you, startled, hope flickering in his eyes like a dying flame, “You do?”

You nod faintly, your voice barely audible, “You love me.”

He swallows hard, his breath hitching. “More than anything. I’d do anything for you, angel. I already did.” His words shake, heavy with remorse. "But now, I have forever to make it right, if you let me, please I'll prove it to you. You don’t have to forgive me now, just…I love you, I love you, I love you."

And despite everything, the death, the blood, the endless ache, you're whispering it back, your voice breaking, “I love you too.”

#this is an actual novel #like so unbelievably well written and soul crushing #i cannot recommend this enough #a fanfic to top all fanfics #fuckboy turned softie is so delicious #vampire immaculate conception???#yeah thats for ME thank you #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost klein rpf

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