ℳℬ𝒜𝒱 ℬℴ𝓎𝓈 ℛℯ𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓰 𝓉ℴ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒷ℯ𝒾𝓃𝓰 𝒶 𝒻𝓁ℯ𝒹𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓰 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝓰 𝒾𝓃𝓉ℴ 𝒶 𝒱𝒜ℳ𝒫ℐℛℰ
Ethan’s world had already been flipped upside down more times than he could count—vampires, seers, ancient cults—but nothing prepared him for the night you stumbled into his basement, fangs half-extended, eyes wide with panic, whispering that you had maybe twenty-eight days left. You were his girlfriend, the girl who laughed at his lame Star Trek references and held his hand during horror movie nights even when he was the one hiding behind the pillow. Now you were a fledgling: stronger, faster, but still so painfully human in the way your voice cracked when you said, “I don’t want to die, Ethan… but I don’t want to be a monster either.”
He spent the first week in full strategist mode. Notebooks stacked on his desk, laptop open to encrypted files he’d hacked from the Vampire Council archives, whiteboard covered in timelines and pros/cons lists. He researched every loophole. Every time your enhanced strength accidentally crushed a controller during a late-night gaming session, or when you outran him to the fridge for a midnight snack, he’d freeze, heart hammering, because it reminded him you were slipping away from the mortal world he knew.
But the nights got harder. You’d curl up on his bed in one of his hoodies (the one with the faded pixel spaceship), head on his chest, and whisper, “I’m scared I’ll lose the part of me that loves you like this. The part that still gets butterflies when you blush.” Ethan’s pure-of-heart awkwardness would melt; he’d wrap his arms around you tighter, voice cracking as he admitted, “I’m terrified too. But… I’d rather have you here, even if you change, than lose you.” He researched ethical blood sources but every option had risks, and the clock ticked.
When you finally chose to live—sipping from the carefully prepared vial of human blood he’d sourced under the strictest moral guidelines, fangs sinking in with a shudder—Ethan was right there, holding your hand through the transformation. Your eyes flashed that fledgling gold for the last time before settling into something new, and he kissed your forehead, voice steady for once. “You’re still you. My girl. We’ll figure out the rest together—flying lessons, avoiding sunlight, all of it. I’m not letting go.” In the quiet aftermath, he’d trace the new sharpness of your smile and feel a strange mix of relief and awe, because his book-smart heart had won the only battle that mattered: keeping you alive.
Benny had always been the loud, goofy one—the Spellmaster who dragged Ethan into every bad idea—but the day you showed up at his locker as a fledgling, his usual swagger cracked wide open. The clock was merciless, and you kept repeating it through gritted teeth: you didn’t want to die, but the thought of becoming a full vampire—of losing the warmth in your laugh, the way you teased his failed pickup lines—made you curl into a ball on his bedroom floor.
He tried to keep things light at first, because that’s Benny. Comic books scattered everywhere, him in his graphic tee and baggy jeans, performing “Vampire Survival 101” skits with sock puppets to make you smile. “Look, vampire curse got nothing on this—Super Spellmaster Benny saves the day!” But late at night, when you zip to the kitchen for blood bags (animal only, still) and you’d come back crying because even that tasted wrong now, his confidence would shatter. He’d pull you into his lap, loud voice dropping to a whisper, “I’m an idiot, but I’m not stupid enough to lose you. You’re the only girl who laughs at my dumb jokes and doesn’t run when I accidentally set the couch on fire. If… if you have to drink it, I’ll be right here. I got you.”
Day by day he researched with a seriousness that surprised even Ethan—flipping through ancient grimoires, consulting his grandma in hushed phone calls, mixing potions that bought you maybe an extra week of feeling human. He’d notice the little things: how your hugs were stronger now, how you could hear his heartbeat from across the room and tease him when it raced around you. “See? Still got that effect on you, Weir,” you’d say, and he’d grin through the fear. By day twenty-five, he was the one begging in the park under moonlight, voice raw: “Don’t leave me, okay? I’m loud and goofy and I mess everything up, but I love you more than my spell book. Choose us. Choose living.”
When you decided—hands shaking as you drank the human blood he’d managed to get—Benny whooped, then immediately scooped you up in a spinning hug, striped shirt flapping. “My badass vampire girlfriend! We’re gonna fly loops around the school, crash parties, the works! And hey… you’re still the girl who makes my heart do backflips. Nothing changes that.” He’d spend the next weeks inventing ridiculous “new vampire date nights,” but the quiet pride in his eyes said it all: he’d helped you choose life, and he’d never let you regret it.
Rory was never the sharpest fang in the coven but the moment you showed up at his locker as a fledgling, messy blonde hair falling in his green-blue eyes, clutching his striped blue jacket like a lifeline, even he got it. “Whoa, babe, you’re like… half-vamp now? That’s kinda hot, but also super not okay because you’re my girl and you’re gonna die-die?” He’d blink, fangs accidentally popping out in panic, then immediately try to play it cool with a “Vampire Ninja” pose that just made you laugh through your tears. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to be a vampire. And time was running out—twenty-seven days, twenty-six, the mortal parts of you aching as your body fought the change.
He tried everything in his dimwitted but earnest way. Hunting “deluxe animal blood smoothies” for you (even though the others gagged at his habits), dressing up in capes to “train” you like a sidekick, forgetting he couldn’t fly with you yet and face-planting into bushes while demonstrating. “See? Super easy! You’ll be a demon of the night like me—wait, no, you hate that part. Uh… like a really awesome half-demon who still eats pizza?” His loyalty was absolute; he’d skip school (again) to sit with you in his room, surrounded by Vampire Sasquatch dolls and Single Tear posters, listening as you vented about losing your humanity. “I get it. I was human once too. Kinda. But I chose this and I’m still me—the Rorster, just with better reflexes and no more glasses. You won’t lose the stuff that makes you awesome. Like how you put up with my crushes on Erica and still pick me.”
The deeper days hit him harder than he let on. He’d go quiet (rare for Rory), green eyes serious as he held your hand—your enhanced strength squeezing back too hard sometimes—and admit, “I don’t wanna be the reason you pick dying. I’m clueless and I mess up, but I’d miss you more than my Sasquatch doll. You make me feel… not so much like the odd-man-out.” He’d research in his own scattered way but mostly he was just there, loyal and kind-hearted, reminding you every sunset that you were still the girl who made his undead heart race.
On the final night, when you chose to live—drinking the human blood with a determined swallow, body shifting fully as fangs sharpened for good—Rory’s golden-yellow eyes lit up like fireworks. He scooped you up (forgetting his own limits again) and spun you around, messy blonde hair everywhere. “Yes! My fledgling girlfriend is now full awesome vampire girlfriend! We’re gonna fly together, hunt ethically or whatever you want, and I’ll even stop calling myself Super Vampire Ninja if it bugs you—okay, maybe not. But you’re here. With me. That’s all I care about.” He’d spend the weeks after showing you the fun parts—racing through the night, sharing his animal delicacies (even if you wrinkled your nose)—but the soft way he’d nuzzle your neck afterward whispered the truth: his clueless heart had helped you choose life, and he’d follow you anywhere.
Jesse had lived over two centuries as the ultimate predator—suave, charismatic on the surface, but with that electric-blue-eyed ruthlessness underneath his black leather jacket and polished bad-boy style. You were different: his girlfriend, the one girl who saw past the “Reverend” act and made the 200-year-old vampire feel something like warmth again. When you turned up as a fledgling—enhanced strength letting you pin him playfully against the wall one night, but voice trembling—his charming smile faltered for the first time in decades. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to be a vampire. And the clock was brutal.
At first, his possessive nature flared. He’d corner you in the shadows after school, dark brown hair styled perfectly, fit athletic build towering as he traced a fang along your jaw. “You’re mine, little fledgling. Dying isn’t an option—I won’t allow it. Drink. Become like me. We’ll rule this pathetic town together.” His voice was velvet and steel, that bright electric-blue glow in his eyes when hunger or anger hit. But he listened—really listened—when you pushed back, tears in your eyes about losing your mortal emotions, the way you still blushed around him, the fear of becoming cold. For once, Jesse didn’t taunt or manipulate; he’d pull you close in his dark leather jacket, the one that smelled like night air and danger, and murmur, “I sired Sarah against her will once. I won’t do that to you. Not if it breaks what I… care about.”
He used every ruthless resource: blackmailing blood suppliers for the purest human samples, flying you to hidden vampire safehouses where time seemed slower. Days blurred—him watching you test your new speed against his, laughing darkly when you almost kept up, but the sadness in his brown human-form eyes (before they flashed blue) showed the conflict. “Humans burned everything I loved in 1809. I hated them for it. But you… you make me remember what it was like before the rage. If staying human kills you, I’ll burn the world again to stop it—but I’ll let you choose.”
By day twenty-eight, his control cracked. He knelt—actually knelt—in front of you under the moonlight, black leather creaking, voice low and raw: “I’ve used everyone as tools. Never you. Choose life, even if it means becoming what I am. I’ll teach you control. I’ll keep the monster in check for both of us. Just… don’t leave me in this eternity alone.” When you chose to live—sinking your fangs into the offering he’d prepared, body arching as the full vampire surge hit, eyes matching his electric blue for a heartbeat—Jesse’s smile returned, sharp and genuine. He caught you as you gasped through the change, pulling you into a kiss that tasted of forever. “There she is. My eternal girl. We’ll hunt the night, break every rule, and you’ll never regret it.” In the quiet after, his hand in yours, he was still the same ruthless vampire—but for you, he’d bend the darkness itself, because you’d chosen him and life, and that was a victory sweeter than any revenge.
