Fanfiction Blue Bloods Novels & Stories

My heels echoed against the cold marble—a surface my father adored but I loathed. Not for its beauty, but for the way it betrayed even a single drop of blood. A nightmare for the maids, though they deserved far better after all they’d seen. Soon, I would change that. Once I inherited my father’s empire, they would never have to scrub away another man's sins. Exhaling softly, I ran a manicured hand through my platinum locks, steadying myself. I was heading to my father’s office for a meeting that could alter the balance of power—one contract, one signature, one carefully calculated move. I could not afford a mistake.

I needed to be alert. “That's what we are,” Fred agreed. “We are not humans. But that doesn't mean we will hurt you.” “Do you consume blood?” I demanded. It took them a long while to answer that. Sighing, Blue pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, we do. We drink blood.” “And you killed your victims?” I wondered aloud, thinking back to the odd times when I felt like something was pricking my neck whenever Blue kissed me there. Had they always held back with me? Waiting for the right time to drink my blood? Were they nurturing me until it was time to eat me?

“Okay, fine. Yes, I am.” Without a warning, I extracted my claws and tore his brown shirt from his torso. He stared at me in shock as I tied the shirt around his injury to stop the blood. “Can you walk?” I stepped back and looked at him. He nodded mutely. “Good, let's go to the clinic.” “You must be the Stella everyone speak about.” He started, limping as he walked beside me. Although I gazed ahead, I kept a watch on him. Blue bloods are exceptionally rare people. They're usually called the direct defendant of the moon goddess and are said to be blessed with gifts. In all regions together, there should be at least 20 of them over a billion werewolves. They were always treated with utmost res

Bianca turned over on the bed as though the silk beneath her could not contain the restlessness in her bones. Her limbs tangled, her breath came shallow and quick, and her thoughts moved like knives precise, hungry, and unstoppable. The moon outside painted the room in a cold, indifferent wash of light, but inside her chest a different light had begun hot, dangerous, and greedy. My son has blue eyes, The thought pulsed through her like a promise and a threat. Blue the color of storm-tide, of things that did not belong, blue that belonged to legends and lineage, to masters who recognized blood and wanted to own it.

In a rough estimate, there are also about five hundred werewolves between the rogues, red wolves, and visiting wolf packs. It’s easy to identify the attendees who aren’t from Cillian’s pack. They wore clothing of different colors, except blue. On the other hand, Blue Bloods wore blue outfits for solidarity in representing their roots. Likewise, I chose to wear a blue tulle gown to let everyone know that I, too, want to express my ties with the Blue Blood Pack, especially, with their future alpha. To show that I am ready to be one of them… that I am ready to be Cillian’s Luna.

You survived them. The café’s door chimed as people came and went, laughter drifting in. I stared at the window, at a group of teenagers who shoved each other playfully, carefree, untouchable. “I wish I could disappear,” I whispered. “Start over somewhere far away. Where I’m not the daughter of a mafia boss. Where I’m not about to marry a monster.” Gia reached for my hand, her grip firm. “Then let’s do it. I would help you, Bella. We could figure something out—”

I barely knew how she did what she did myself, but something told me it had something to do with the copious amounts of her blood I could smell on her. "That wasn't natural, Sol," Serin said softly. I knew he was trying not to anger me. He didn't want to insult Mia, but his confusion was understandable. "Don't you remember the old stories?" "The old stories?" Sarah asked as she looked up at both of us. "Fictional stories," I stressed to both of them. "Bedtime stories our mothers would tell us." "They were cautionary tales, Sol, of half-bloods who could wipe out entire villages and kingdoms if they chose to."

The match soon started with a blow of whistle and Julianne could see the boys struggle to get the ball as they made a formation. From the Red team, Julianne sighted Cassian and she could see him tackling his opponent as he made his way to score a goal. He had almost scored, but there was a foul play from one of the opponents who stood in front of him. Julianne saw it clearly, almost too fast. She would have accepted that Cassian deserved it, because in the first place, he shouldn’t be in the team, playing, knowing what kind of person he is and that he would be stronger than the rest. But from the blue team, she saw Jordan and similar faces of the students who she saw with him the other day.

The instinct to protect what was his. Even from his own blood. Especially from his own blood. --- He tracked the scent to the east wing of the old house. The part no one used. Where the roof leaked and the floorboards remembered footsteps from decades ago. Elias was waiting. Of course he was. Men who left warnings in dead men's handwriting liked to watch them land. "She's dangerous." Elias didn't turn from the window. Below, the town moved through its morning, unaware. "The bloodline."

“he’s a sick son of a bitch. But I’ll give him this, he knows how to put on a show.” Eli blinked, confused. “This,” I said, gesturing around the kitchen, “this is the kind of twisted theatrics only the Moretti bloodline could dream up. Give the boy his lovers, give him two kingdoms, then hand him the gun and make him pick who gets the bullet.” Eli winced. “It’s not like that—” “The hell it isn’t,” I snapped. “He’s not just making you choose, Eli. He’s making you guilty. Doesn’t matter who dies, you’ll carry the blood.”