She/Her. Slytherin! Requests are OPEN! I write for Arrow, Criminal Minds, Fear The Walking Dead, Good Trouble, Harry Potter, Riverdale, Supernatural, The 100, The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, The Flash, The Fosters, The Walking Dead, and Twilight! I will write for anyone you want and however you want (too the best of my ability!) I hope you enjoy your stay at my blog! I change my header to a different show I write for every month!
Request: Yes / No I don’t know if you still write for the fosters, but I saw that Jude is one of your favorites to write for so I was kind of hoping that you could write a Jude fanfic that’s male x male! It’s ok if you don’t but I don’t see like any of him 💔😭. Anon
Requests are open, but for anything I write for but Riverdale, I’m not feeling much inspo for that right now! <3 Have a nice day/night
Jude Adams-Foster x Male!Reader
Word count: 1580
Warnings: Homophobia, abuse, angst, please do not read this if you might be triggered by homophobia!
Y/N: Your Name
Y/L/N: Your Last Name
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!
If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!
Masterlist
If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee!
(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
*Jude’s POV*
I never planned on falling in love. At least, not when I was fourteen and still figuring out who I am. But when Y/N Y/L/N transferred into my English class at the beginning of the school year, everything changed. Y/N wasn’t loud or outgoing. He wasn’t the kind of guy who walked into a room and immediately became the center of attention. He was quiet, funny when he wanted to be, smart, and had the kind of smile that made me forget what I was saying halfway through a sentence.
It started with group projects. Then sitting together at lunch. Then texting… hours and hours of texting. Eventually, one night after they had spent nearly an hour talking outside Y/N’s house because neither of us wanted to say goodbye, Y/N had kissed me. A nervous, shaky kiss, and I kissed him back.
That had been six months ago. Now, we were officially boyfriends… Sort of. Because while I was openly gay and had the support of my family, Y/N wasn’t. Not even close. His family attended church every Sunday. His Father made comments whenever gay people appeared on television. His older brother laughed at jokes that made Y/N visibly uncomfortable. His Mother never said much, but she never disagreed with any of it either. So Y/N stayed in the closet, only I knew. And I respected that, because coming out wasn’t something anyone else got to decide. Even if it hurt sometimes. Even if it meant we couldn’t hold hands at school. Even if it meant pretending we were just friends. I understood. I loved Y/N. And I would wait.
Friday afternoon, the school parking lot was mostly empty. Football practice had started, the buses had already left, and Y/N and I sat behind the bleachers where nobody usually went. Y/N leaned against the mental supports. I sat beside him.
“So…” I said.
“So?”
“You still haven’t admitted I beat you.”
Y/N snorted. “In Mario Kart?”
“Yes.”
“You absolutely cheated.”
“I didn’t cheat.”
“You did.”
“I won fair and square.”
Y/N rolled his eyes. “You drove off the track seventeen times.”
“That’s strategy.”
“That’s stupidity.”
I laughed, Y/N laughed too.
God… I love hearing that laugh.
For a moment, Y/N just looked at me. His expression softened. The noise of the football team echoed faintly in the distance. Nobody came near the bleachers, nobody ever did. Y/N reached over and laced our fingers together. I smiled, then Y/N leaned forward and kissed me. Slow, gentle, perfect. I kissed him back immediately. For a few seconds, the rest of the world disappeared. Neither of us noticed the figure standing at the corner of the field. Or the phone being raised. Or the camera snapping a picture.
*Y/N’s POV*
I didn’t know anything was wrong until dinner. My phone buzzed, a text from my older brother.
Get downstairs. Now.
I frowned. I walked into the kitchen, and the moment I stepped inside, I froze. My Father sat at the table, my Mother stood beside the counter, my brother leaned against the wall, and all three looked furious. And lying on the table was a printed photograph. My stomach dropped.
No.
No.
No!
My Father shoved the picture toward me. The image stared back. Me. Jude. Kissing. I felt the blood drain from my face.
“Who is he?” My Father asked.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Answer me.”
Silence.
My Father slammed his hands onto the table.
“WHO IS HE!?”
I flinched.
“It’s-” My voice cracked.
“It’s my friend.”
My brother barked out a laugh. “Friends don’t kiss.”
I looked down. My Father stood, the chair scraped across the floor.
“You lied to us.”
“Dad-”
“You lied.”
“It’s not-”
The slap came so fast I never saw it. Pain exploded across my face. My head snapped sideways. My Mother gasped, but she didn’t stop it. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. I stared at the floor. My cheek burned. My Father towered over me.
“You disgust me.” The words hurt worse than the slap.
“You are not seeing him again.”
“Dad-”
“I said NO!”
I swallowed hard. Tears blurred my vision. My Father pointed toward the stairs.
“Go to your room.”
I didn’t move. The second hit was a punch, straight to the eye. Everything went black for a second. My knees buckled. My brother looked away. My Mother covered her mouth. And still nobody stopped him.
“Go.”
I stumbled upstairs. Shut the door. Locked it. Then slid down the wall and cried.
*Jude’s POV*
Saturday. Sunday. Monday. Y/N never answered any of my texts. Not a single one. I sent dozens. Are you okay? Did I do something wrong? Please talk to me…
Nothing. No response. By Monday morning, I felt sick. Something was wrong. Something happened, I just knew it. The moment I saw Y/N walking into school my stomach dropped. Y/N wouldn’t look at me. Wouldn’t meet my eyes. Wouldn’t talk. Wouldn’t even sit near me. And there was a dark bruise forming around his left eye. I stared.
The final bell rang, and students flooded out of classrooms. I spotted Y/N heading toward the parking lot. I hurried after him.
“Y/N!”
No response.
“Y/N!”
He kept walking. I grabbed his arm.
“Hey.”
Y/N stopped, slowly, reluctantly. When he turned around, I got a full look at the bruise. A black eye. The split skin near his eyebrow. I felt cold.
“What happened?”
Y/N looked away. “Nothing.”
“That’s not nothing.”
Silence.
“Y/N.”
Still nothing.
“Who did this to you?”
Y/N’s jaw tightened.
“I can’t talk to you anymore.” The words hit me like a punch.
“What?”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Y/N laughed bitterly. “Because someone told my family.”
I froze.
“What?”
“They know.” His voice cracked.
“They know I’m gay.”
I stared. The pieces clicked together instantly. The bruise. The silence. The fear…. Oh God…
“Oh my God…”
Y/N looked away. “They found out Friday.”
I couldn’t breathe. “Your Dad did this?”
Y/N didn’t answer. That was answer enough. I felt sick, furious, ans heartbroken all at once.
“Y/N-”
“I have to go.”
“No.”
“Jude-”
“You don’t have to-”
“My Dad said if he sees me talking to you again-” His voice broke. I realized Y/N was shaking. Actually shaking.
“He’ll make it worse.”
My heart shattered. Y/N stepped backward.
“I’m sorry…”
“Y/N-”
“I’m sorry…”
Then he turned and walked away. I stood there watching him leave. Unable to stop him.
The entire way home felt like a blur. My chest hurt, my eyes burned, and by the time I reached the house, I barely held myself together. I opened the front door, and voices echoed from the kitchen. It was normal, happy, and safe. Everything Y/N didn’t have. I dropped my backpack by the door. Mariana immediately looked up.
“Whoa.”
Jesus looked over. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” Mariana said instantly.
I started toward the stairs.
“Jude.” It was Mama. She just came into the room, and one look at me told her everything.
“Come here.” That was all it took. The tears started immediately.
Ten minutes later I sat at the kitchen table. Mama beside me, Mom across from me. Mariana and Jesus were nearby. Callie and Brandon came downstairs too. Everyone looked worried. I stared at my hands, trying not to cry again. Mama rubbed my shoulder.
“Talk to us.”
I swallowed. “My boyfriend.”
The room went quiet, because I rarely talked about relationships.
“He didn’t answer me all weekend.”
Mom frowned. “Okay.”
“And today I found out why.” My voice cracked.
“He wasn’t out to his family.”
Mama’s expression immediately changed. Understanding, concern, and fear. I continued.
“Someone got a picture of us.”
Nobody interrupted.
“Someone showed his parents…”
Mom muttered something under her breath, probably a curse.
“He had a black eye.”
The entire room froze.
“A black eye?”
I nodded and my eyes filled again.
“He said his family found out he’s gay.”
Another nod.
“And now they’re hurting him.”
The kitchen became completely silent. Even Mariana stopped talking. Jesus looked horrified. Callie covered her mouth. Brandon looked sick. Mom looked furious, the kind of furious that made people run. Mama looked heartbroken. I wiped at my eyes.
“He said he can’t talk to me anymore…” My voice broke.
“He said his Dad will make it worse.”
Nobody spoke for a moment. Then Mama reached for my hand.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
I started crying because hearing someone say it outloud made it real. Y/N was being hurt because of me, because of a picture, because somebody decided to expose something that wasn’t theirs to expose. Mom looked ready to explode.
“Do you know his last name?”
I blinked. “What?”
“His last name.”
“Y/L/N.”
Mom exchanged a glance with Mama. The look only married couples understood. I noticed immediately.
“What?”
Mom leaned forward. “Did he tell you his Father hit him?”
“He didn’t have to.”
The room fell silent again. Mom nodded once, slowly. Then she stood and reached for her phone.
“What are you doing?”
Mom looked at me. “The same thing I’d do for any kid being abused.”
I stared. Hope flickered for the first time all day. Maybe, just maybe, Y/N wouldn’t have to face this alone. And neither would I.
I don’t know if you still write for the fosters, but I saw that Jude is one of your favorites to write for so I was kind of hoping that you could write a Jude fanfic that’s male x male! It’s ok if you don’t but I don’t see like any of him 💔😭.
Requests are open, but for anything I write for but Riverdale, I’m not feeling much inspo for that right now! <3 Have a nice day/night
Jasper Hale x Fem!Human!Reader
Word count: 3238
Warnings: SMUT!!
Y/N: Your Name
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!
If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!
Masterlist
If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee!
(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
The rain was soft and persistently drumming against the windowpane, which made my bedroom feel less like a room and more like a cocoon. Mama and Daddy had taken the truck up to Port Angeles for the weekend, some antique auction Daddy swore would be “worth the drive, sugar,” and I had the house to myself since Friday afternoon. Three days of quiet. Well, mostly quiet.
Jasper’s leaning against the doorframe of my bedroom, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with that unhurried, knowing expression he wore like a second skin. He came through the window twenty minutes ago, the same way he always did when my parents weren’t home: silent, graceful, smelling of pine, rain, and something cold that clung to his skin no matter the season. I was sprawled across my bed, homework abandoned in a heap on the floor, my old quilt bunched up under my elbows. The lamp on my nightstand cast everything in a warm glow, painting shadows across his sharp cheekbones and the hard line of his jaw. And I was staring, couldn’t help it.
He was wearing that grey Henley with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and the way the fabric pulled across his shoulders did things to my concentration that should’ve been illegal. His hair was tousled from the wind outside, a few honey-blond strands falling across his forehead, and his eyes, that liquid gold that shifted in low light, were fixed on me with an intensity that made my pulse flutter at the base of my throat. I bit my bottom lip. Jasper’s smile tugged crookedly.
“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” He drawled, his accent curling around the words slower than usual, deliberate and warm like molasses.
“and I’m gonna start thinkin’ you want somethin’.” The way he said it, low, teasing, edged with something darker underneath, sent a shiver down my spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the chill coming through the open window.
I should’ve blushed. Maybe ducked my head and laughed it off the way a proper Southern girl might’ve. But we’ve been doing this dance for a year now, Jasper and me, and I learned a thing or two about what happened when I stopped pretending I didn’t know exactly what I was asking for. So I lifted my chin and met his gaze straight on.
“Maybe I do.”
The words hung in the air between us, soft but steady. Jasper’s expression changed instantly. The amusement didn’t vanish, it sharpened. His smile faded into something leaner, hungrier, and his posture shifted by degrees: shoulders squaring, hands uncrossing, finger curling loose at his sides. The air in the room thickened, pressing against my skin, and I felt the weight of his attention like a physical thing. He didn’t move from the doorway, but suddenly he seemed closer.
“Careful now, sweetheart.” His voice dropped, rougher than before, the Texas in his accent bleeding through stronger.
“Don’t tease unless you’re ready for me to do somethin’ about it.”
My heart kicked hard against my ribs. The old floorboards creaked as I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I was wearing cutoff shorts and one of his shirts, a faded flannel he left behind weeks ago that I claimed and never gave back. It hung loose off one shoulder, and his gaze tracked the exposed skin like a physical touch.
“Who says I’m teasin’?” I asked, and my voice came out steadier than I felt.
“You’ve been standin’ in that doorway for five minutes, Jasper Hale, lookin’ at me like you’re fixin’ to devour me whole. So quit actin’ like I’m the only one who wants somethin’.”
A sound rumbled low in his chest, not quite a laugh. Then he moved. One moment, he was across the room, the next he was in front of me, close enough that I could feel the cold radiating off his skin, smell the rain still clinging to his hair. His hands settled on either side of my hips on the mattress, caging me in, and he leaned down until his lips hovered just above my ear.
“Been wantin’ you since I walked through that window.” He murmured, each word a brush of cool breath against my skin.
“Can feel it comin’ off you, too. That heat. That ache.” His nose traced the curve of my jaw, feather-light.
“You think I can’t taste it in the air, darlin’? Every time your heart skips, every time you bite that pretty lip of yours, I know.”
My hands came up without thinking, fisting the front of his Henley, and the fabric was cold and damp beneath my fingers.
“Then do somethin’ about it.” I whispered.
He kissed me. Not gently, not tentative. Jasper kissed like he’s been holding himself back for hours, days, maybe longer, and the restraint had finally snapped. His mouth covered mine hard, his cool lips parting, and when his tongue swept against my bottom lip I made a sound I didn’t recognize. My fingers twisted tighter in his shirt. His hand slid up my spine, palm flat and cold through the flannel, pressing me closer until my chest was flush against his. The shock of temperature, his body cool through the fabric, mine burning, drew a gasp from my throat that he swallowed whole. He pulled back just enough to drag the flannel off my shoulder, baring skin, and his mouth followed the newly exposed path. Lips trailing down my neck. Tongue tracing my collarbone. Teeth grazing the curve where my shoulder met my throat, not hard enough to hurt but enough to draw another sharp, desperate sound.
“Jasper-”
“Shh.” His breath fanned cool against the damp spot his mouth had left.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
His hands found the hem of the shirt and pulled. I lifted my arms, let him strip it over my head, and the air hit my bare skin in a rush. I wasn’t wearing a bra. His gaze dropped, and the sound he made was somewhere between a groan and a growl.
“God, Y/N.”
He lowered me back onto the quilt slowly, deliberately, like he was savoring every inch of the journey. The old fabric was soft and worn beneath my back. Jasper braced himself above me, one hand beside my head, the other tracing down my sternum with excruciating gentleness. His fingers circled my left breast, and when his thumb brushed my nipple, I arched off the mattress.
“So responsive.” The words were barely audible, more breath than sound, and his eyes had gone dark, the gold swallowed up by something deeper.
“Been dreamin’ about havin’ you like this. Spread out under me. Just us. No one comin’ home for hours.”
He bent his head and took my nipple into his mouth. Cold. Hot. The contrast was dizzying, his tongue working slow circles while his hand slid lower, palm skimming my stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of my cutoff. I bucked against him, and he hummed against my breast, the vibration shooting straight down between my legs. He moved to the other side, giving it the same unhurried attention, and my fingers tangled in his thick, silk hair, catching on the ends that curled slightly from the damp.
“Please…” I heard myself say.
Jasper lifted his head. “Please what, darlin’?”
“Touch me.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, lazy and wicked. “I am touchin’ you.”
“You know what I mean.”
His hand slid fully into my shorts, fingers pressing against me through the thin cotton of my underwear. I was soaked through, had been since the moment he stepped through the window, and the pressure of his touch made my hips roll automatically, seeking more friction.
“This what you wanted?” He asked, voice rough as gravel, and his fingers traced the outline of me through the fabric with agonizing precision.
“Been standin’ in that doorway thinkin’ about how wet you’d be for me. How warm. How soft.”
I couldn’t form words anymore. My head pressed back into the quilt, my breath coming in short, ragged pulls, and he hadn’t even… His fingers hooked the waistband of my underwear and tugged. I lifted my hips, letting him peel them down my legs alongside my shorts, and then I was bare beneath him, nothing but the quilt, the lamplight, and his body hovering over mine. He sat back on his heels, still fully clothed, and looked at me. Just… looked. The way he stared made my skin prickle, made my thighs twitch with the urge to close, but his hands caught my knees and held them apart.
“Don’t.” He said, and it wasn’t a request. “I wanna see you.”
His thumb traced the inside of my thigh, slow and deliberate, and when his gaze met mine again, it was almost reverent.
“Beautiful…” He murmured. “So damn beautiful, Y/N.”
Then his thumb slid higher, found my clit, and pressed. The sound I made wasn’t polite. Wasn’t ladylike. It was raw and broken and his name all tangled together, and Jasper’s smile sharpened into something predatory.
“Let me hear you, sweetheart. Just like that.” He breathed.
His thumb circled, slow and steady, and I was already trembling, already wound so tight from all the anticipation that even that small touch felt like too much and not enough all at once. He watched my face, reading every reaction, every flutter of my lashes, every gasp. He knew exactly what he was doing. He always did. A finger pressed inside me, then two, curling upward, and my vision went white at the edges.
“Look at you.” His voice was strained now, the control he wore like armor starting to crack.
“So warm. So tight around my fingers. You have no idea what you do to me.”
My hips moved against his hand, desperate and unashamed, chasing the pressure building low in my belly. His thumb kept circling, and his fingers kept stroking that spot inside me that made my whole body clench, and I was right there, right on the edge…
He stopped.
I made a noise of pure frustration, my eyes flying open. Jasper was looking down at me with an expression that made my breath catch.
“Not yet.” He said, and his voice was dark as thunder.
“When you come for me, darlin’, I wanna be inside you.”
He pulled his shirt over his head, and I watched the muscles in his stomach flex, watched the lamplight trace the hard planes of his chest, his arms, the trail of pale hair that disappeared beneath his jeans. His hand found the button of his jeans, and he paused.
“Tell me you want this.”
“I want this.” I said, and the words came fast and sure. “I want you. Jasper, please…”
He lowered himself over me, skin to skin, and the shock of his cool body against my flushed one made us both groan. His forehead pressed to mine, and for a moment, we just breathed together. Then he shifted, and I felt him, hard and ready, pressing against my entrance.
“Hold on to me.” He whispered.
My arms wrapped around his shoulders. He pushed inside, slow and deep, filling me inch by inch until there was nothing left between us, no space, no air, just Jasper and the stretch and the perfect, aching fullness of him. He stayed buried inside me, his weight braced on his forearms, and I could feel every inch of him. The cool, smooth, and stretching me in a way that blurred the line between pleasure and ache. My body was still adjusting, still fluttering around him in small, involuntary pulses that made his jaw tighten, and his breath come shallower.
Jasper’s forehead pressed to mine. His eyes were closed. I’ve never seen him like this. Usually, he was so controlled, so deliberate, every movement calculated like he was solving a puzzle only he could see. But right now his shoulders were trembling under my palms, and the muscles in his back were corded tight beneath my fingers, and his lips were parted just enough that I could hear the faint, ragged pull of air he didn’t technically need.
“Y/N…” My name came out hoarse, broken at the edges.
“Give me a second, darlin’. Just… just a second.”
My legs were wrapped around his hips, my heels pressed into the small of his back, and every tiny shift of my body made him shudder. I could feel it, the way his restraint was fraying, the way his control was held together by threads. So I did what any sensible girl would do. I clenched around him. Deliberately. His eyes flew open, and the gold was nearly gone, swallowed by black.
“Did you just-”
“Maybe.”
The growl that rumbled through his chest vibrated straight into me. His hips jerked, pressing deeper, and the sudden movement dragged a cry from my throat that I muffled against his shoulder.
“You’re playin’ with fire, sweetheart.” His voice had dropped to something barely recognizable, rough as gravel, thick as honey, all Texas and hunger and barely leashed want.
“Thought I told you not to tease.”
“Thought you said you were gonna do somethin’ about it.” I dragged my nail down his back, and his whole body tensed.
“So do somethin’ Jazz.”
He pulled out, slow, so slow I could feel every ridge and vein dragging against my inner walls, and then he thrust back in, hard enough that the headboard knocked against the wall. I gasped. He did it again. And again. Each thrust deliberate, measured, like he was relearning the shape of me from the inside. My hands fisted in the quilt beneath me, my back arching off the mattress, and he caught my hips with one hand, holding me steady while he set a rhythm that was slow, deep, and devastating.
“You feel-” He broke off, his head dropping to the curve of my neck.
“God, Y/N. You’re so warm. So tight around me. I can feel every heartbeat. Every flutter.”
His mouth found my throat, cool lips pressing against my pulse point, and I knew he could feel it, the way my blood was racing, the way my heart was hammering against my ribs like a wild thing trying to escape. He groaned against my skin, and the vibration traveled down my spine, settled somewhere low and electric.
“Jasper, please-”
“Please what?” His hips kept moving, that relentless rhythm, and his thumb found my clit again, circling with maddening precision.
“Please faster? Please harder? Or do you want me to keep you right here, on the edge, for an hour?” The thought made my inner muscles clench violently around him. He hissed.
“Faster.” I managed, the word barely coherent. “Please, faster.”
He obliged. The headboard hammered against the wall in a steady, urgent beat, and the sound of it, the creak of the bedframe, the slap of skin against skin, my breathless cries tangled with his low groans, filled the room until there was nothing else. No rain. No wind. No world outside this bed. Just Jasper.
Just the way he moved inside me, the way his hand gripped my hip hard enough to bruise, the way his eyes stayed fixed on my face like he was memorizing every expression, every sound, every second.
“Look at you.” His voice cracked. “Falling apart on my cock. So pretty, Y/N. So goddamn pretty.”
The words did something to me. Something that made my vision tunnel, my thighs shake, and my nails dig into his shoulders as the pressure inside me coiled tighter and tighter, winding like a spring.
“I’m close.” The warning came out as a sob. “Jazz, I’m… don’t stop, please don’t stop-”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His thumb pressed harder against my clit, his thrusts turning rougher, losing their careful rhythm.
“Wanna feel you come around me. Want to feel you squeeze me so tight I can’t think. Can you do that for me, darlin’? Can you let go?” His mouth moved to my ear, his breath cold against the shell of it.
“Cum for me, Y/N. Now.” The command shattered something inside me.
My climax hit like a thunderclap, sudden, violent, and all-consuming. My back bowed off the mattress, my mouth opened on a scream I couldn’t hear, and my body clenched around him in waves that didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Just kept rolling through me, one after another, until I was nothing but sensation, heat, and the sound of Jasper’s name breaking from my lips.
Through the haze, I felt him stiffen above me. Heard his groan, low, rough, and utterly wrecked, as my climax triggered his own. His hips drove deep, holding still, and the cool rush of his release flooded inside me, marking me, filling me.
For a long, suspended moment, we stayed like that. Locked together. Breathless. Trembling. Then Jasper collapsed, his weight settling on top of me in a way that should’ve been crushing but wasn’t, it was grounding, steadying, a cold anchor in the storm of sensation still rippling through my body. His face pressed into the hollow of my throat, and I could feel his lips moving against my skin, murmuring words I was too dazed to catch.
My fingers found his hair. Stroked through the tangled strands. Somewhere outside, the rain kept falling. I don’t know how long we lay there before he stirred. Before he lifted his head and looked at me with eyes that had softened back to gold, warm, lazy, and satisfied.
“You alright?” The drawl was back, slow and easy. One corner of his mouth curved up.
“Didn’t break you, did I?”
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest, breathless, giddy, and completely unleadylike.
“M’not that fragile, Jasper Hale.”
“No.” His thumb traced my cheekbone, feather-light.
“No, you’re not. You’re a hell of a lot stronger than you look, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Before I could answer, he eased out of me, careful, gentle, and the sudden emptiness made me wince. Made me ache. He noticed, of course. He noticed everything. His expression flicked with something almost like guilt.
“Stay here.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“I’ll be right back.”
He moved off the bed with that unsettling vampire grace, all lean muscle and pale skin in the lamplight, and disappeared through my bedroom door. A few seconds later, I heard the bathroom faucet run. When he returned, he was carrying a warm, damp washcloth.
I should’ve been embarrassed. A proper Southern girl would’ve blushed, stammered, and tried to do it herself. But the tenderness in his expression, the careful way he cleaned between my thighs, the reverent brush of his knuckles against my oversensitive skin, stole the breath from my lungs and the protest from my tongue. He tossed the washcloth into the hamper, then climbed back onto the bed, pulling me against his chest. He tucked the quilt around us both.
“You’re stayin’?” The question came out smaller than I meant it to.
His arms tightened around my waist. “Try makin’ me leave.”
I pressed my smile into his collarbone. The cold of his skin had stopped feeling strange months ago. Now it just felt like home.
“Besides,” He added, and I could hear the grin in his voice. “your parents ain’t back ‘til Sunday. We’ve got time.”
Requests are open, but for anything I write for but Riverdale, I’m not feeling much inspo for that right now! <3 Have a nice day/night
Caliban x Fem!Reader
Word count: 2153
Warnings: SMUT!!
Y/N: Your Name
Y/N/N: Your Nickname
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!
If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!
Masterlist
If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee!
(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
The ballroom of the Thronwood estate glittered with a thousand candles, their amber flames casting dancing shadows across vaulted ceilings painted with scenes of ancient witchcraft. I stood at the edge of it all, my emerald gown trailing across marble floors worn smooth by generations of my family’s footsteps. Everywhere I looked, warlocks in tailored suits and witches in gowns that cost more than most mortals made in a year laughed, schemed, and made the kind of small talk that could end bloodlines.
I should have been mingling. My Mother had reminded me three times this evening alone that the Alder coven had a son visiting from New Orleans, that the Blackwood heir had been asking about me, that I needed to be seen. Instead, I slipped away to the balcony, letting the cool night air wash over my bare shoulders.
“You’re missing your own party.”
That voice. Deep, rough, and unfairly attractive. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“Caliban.” I kept my gaze fixed on the garden below, where moonlight turned the hedge maze into silvery shadows.
“Don’t you have some other poor soul to torment?”
His footsteps approached, slow and deliberate.
“I’m not interested in other souls tonight.” The warmth of him settled at my side, close enough that I could feel it through the thin silk of my dress.
“Only yours.”
“I don’t belong to you.”
“Not yet.” He said it like a promise, like a threat.
I finally turned, ready to deliver with withering retort, and found him watching me with eyes that held all the heat I’ve been trying to ignore. The Prince of Hell, dressed in a black suit that hugged his bread shoulders and narrowed waist. His hair fell across his forehead in that effortlessly disheveled way that made me want to run my fingers through it. Which was exactly the kind of thought I refused to acknowledge.
“Why are you here?” I demanded. “My family may have invited you, but that doesn’t mean-”
“Your family didn’t invite me.” His lips curved. “I invited myself. Consider it… a perk of being royalty.”
“Self-invited royalty, how fitting for the Prince of Hell.”
He leaned closer, and the scent of him, smoke, amber, and something darker, filled my lungs.
“Still trying to act like you hate me?” Caliban murmured, that smug grin I wanted to kiss right off his face spreading slowly.
“Darling, if that were true, you wouldn’t be trembling every time I touch you.”
My pulse spiked. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet here you are, alone with me after midnight.” His gaze dropped to my lips, then lower, tracing the plunging neckling of my gown with agnizing slowness.
“Tell me to leave. Mean it. I’ll walk away and never bother you again.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
“That’s what I thought.” His hand came up, fingers brushing my bare arm, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
“You’ve been watching me all night, Y/N. Every time I caught your eye, you looked away. Every time I moved closer, you found somewhere else to be. But you never left.”
“I was being polite.”
“You were running.” He stepped closer still, eliminating the last pretense of distance between us.
“From me. From this. From how badly you want me to bend you over this balcony railing and making you forget every reason you think you should stay away.”
My breath caught. “We’re at my family’s estate. Anyone could-”
“Let them watch.” His hand slid up, fingers threading into my hair, gripping just tight enough to make me gasp.
“Let them see their precious daughter writhing on the cock of Hell’s Prince. Let them understand that no matter how many suitable warlocks they parade before you, you’ll always come back to me.”
“You’re arrogant.”
“I’m honest.” He tugged, tilting my head back, exposing the calumn of my throat. His breath ghosted across my skin as he lowered his mouth to that sensitive spot just below my ear.
“Tell me to stop.”
“Caliban-”
“Tell me you don’t want this.” His other hand found my hip, fingers digging into the silk, pulling me against him until I could feel exactly how much he wanted this too. Hard and thick against my stomach.
“Tell me, and I’ll stop.”
I should. Every logical part of my brain screamed that this was reckless, dangerous, that my family would never accept him, that nothing good could come from falling into bed with a demon Prince. But his lips found my pulse point, tongue tracing the rapid beat, and coherent thought scattered.
“I hate you.” I breathed, even as my hands fisted in his jacket, pulling him closer.
He laughed against my throat. “I know.”
Then his mouth was on mine, consuming and claiming, all teeth and tongue and the kind of desperate hunger that made her knees weak. She kissed me back with equal fervor, months of pent-up wanting pouring out of me in waves. His grip tightened in my hair.
“Inside. Now. Before I take you right here and scandalize your entire bloodline.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, dragging me through the balcony doors and into a shadowed corridor that led away from the ballroom’s light. I knew this house, every hidden passage, every forgotten corner, but I let him lead, let him push me against the nearest wall and hike my skirt up with impatient hands.
“Caliba, someone could-”
His fingers found my center, pressing against my slick heat through the thin barrier of my underwear.
“Someone could.” He agreed, dragging one finger along my entrance, gathering my arousal.
“And you’re soaked for me. The insufferable Prince of Hell you hate so very much.”
I clawed at his shoulders as he pushed the fabric aside and sank one finger into my clentching channel.
“More.”
“Greedy little witch.” He added a second finger, pumping slowly, curling them to find that spot that made her vision blur.
“So tight. I’m going to enjoy splitting you open on my cock.”
My head fell back against the wall. “Then stop teasing and-”
He withdrew his fingers without warning, leaving me empty and aching. Before I could protest, he lifted me, urging my legs around his waist as he freed himself from his trousers. The broad head of him pressed against my entrance, and he paused, eyes blazing.
“Last chance to be sensible, witch.”
I rolled my hips, taking him inside me in one smooth motion, and we groaned together as he filled me completely. His jaw tightened, control visibly fraying.
“I’m going to ruin you.” He promised, and then he began to move.
He moved with a deliberateness that drove me mad. Each thrust was measured, controled, as if he had all the time in the world to take me apart piece by piece when anyone could stumble upon us at any moment. My back pressed into the wall, the cold stone a sharp contrast to the furnace of his body against mine.
“Caliban…” I gasped, fingernails biting into his shoulders through the fine fabric of his suit jacket.
“Faster…”
His laugh was dark velvet against my ear. “Patience, Y/N. I’ve been waiting months for this. I intend to savor every second.”
“I hate you.”
“You’ve mentioned.” He rolled his hips, hitting that spot inside me that made white sparks dance across my vision.
“And yet your body tells a different story. So wet. So tight. Practically begging for my cock.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to bite back with something sharp that would wipe that insufferable smirk from his face. But then he shifted angle, driving deeper, and the only sound that escaped my throat was a broken moan that echoed too loudly in the empty corridor. Caliban’s hand came up to cover my mouth. His eyes blazed with triumph.
“Shhh, wouldn’t want your precious family to hear their daughter being fucked like a common whore by Hell’s Prince.”
The words should have insulted me. Instead, heat pooled low in my belly, my inner walls clenching around him. His grin sharpened, feeling me respond.
“Oh, you like that.” His thumb brushed across my lower lip, pressing inside.
“Filthy little witch. All that proper breeding, all those rules and traditions, and what really makes you wet is being reminded what you are when I’m inside you.”
I bit down on his thumb, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to show I still had teeth. He rewarded me with a brutal thrust that slammed me against the wall.
“Again.” I demanded, wrapping my legs tighter around his wasit.
“Harder.”
“Since you asked so nicely.”
He stopped holding back. Each stroke was punishing now, driving the air from my lungs, the wet sound of our bodies meeting obscenely loud in the silence. I clung to him, desperate, my carefully constructed walls crumbling with every snap of his hips. This was why I fought so hard. Not because my family would disapprove, though that was true. I fought because I knew, from the first moment he looked at me with those burning eyes, that he would consume me. That he would peel away every layer of control I wrapped around myself until there was nothing left but raw need. And I would let him.
“Getting close.” He growled against my throat, his pace turning erratic.
“Come for me, Y/N. Want to feel you squeeze my cock.”
His fingers found my clit, circling in tight, ruthless strokes. The dual sensation was too much. My orgasm crashed through me without warning, every muscle in my body seizing as wave after wave of pleasure tore through me. I bit down on his shoulder to muffle my scream, tasting the expensive fabric and the Earth of his skin. He followed me over the edge three thrusts later, burying himself deep as he spilled inside me with a groan I felt more than heard. His forehead pressed against mine, both of us breathing hard, bodies still joined.
For a long moment, neither moved. The distant sounds of the party, laughter, music, the clink of champagne glasses, filtered through the walls, a reminder that a hundred witches and warlocks celebrated mere yards away, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired.
Then Caliban pulled back, and I felt the loss of him kneely. He set me down gently, steadying me when my knees threatened to buckle. His eyes swept over me, hair ruined, gown wrinkled, lips swollen, with unmistakable satisfaction.
“Look at you, wrecked, beautiful, and all mine.” He murmured.
I forced strength into my legs, smoothing down my skirt with hands that trembled.
“I should return to the party.”
“You should.” He made no move to release me. “Your family will be looking for their dutiful daughter.”
“My thoughts exactly.” I tried to step around him, but he caught my wrist.
“This isn’t over, Y/N.” His voice dropped, all teasing vanished. “One taste of you isn’t nearly enough. It will never be enough.”
Something in my chest tightened. “I never promised you more.”
“You didn’t have to.” He lifed my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm that felt dangerously like a vow.
“Your body already did. The way you say my name when you come apart.”
I snatched my hand back. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re running again.” He stepped aside, gestureing dramatically toward the corridor’s end.
“Go. Mingle with your suitable warlocks. Pretend you didn’t just let the Prince of Hell claim you against a wall.”
“I didn’t let you do anything.”
“Denial doesn’t suit you, darling.”
I walked away before he could see how badly my hands shook. The corridor twisted twice before opening onto a small antechamber, and I paused there, catching my breath. A mirror hung on the wall, and I stared at my reflection, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair escaping its careful arrangement. Nothing a few charms couldn’t fix. I whispered the incantaion, watched the evidence of my indiscretion fade away. When I emerged into the ballroom, I was perfectly composed, emerald gown swirling elegantly around me ankles, not a hair out of place.
“There you are!” My Mother descended, diamonds glittering at her throat.
“The Alder boy has been asking for you. Such a promishing family, excellent connections in New Orleans. Come, I’ll introduce you properly.”
I followed without protest, falling into the role I played my entire life. But across the room, past hundreds of laughing guests, I caught a glimpse of him. Caliban leaned against a marble pillar, watching me. He raised his champagne flute in a silent toast, lips curving. My pulse jumped traitorously. I turned away, focusing on my Mother’s chatter about bloodlines and betrothal contracts, but the heat of his gaze followed me. Later, when the Alder heir asked me to dance, I accepted with a perfect smile… and counted the minutes until I could slip away again.
Requests are open, but for anything I write for but Riverdale, I’m not feeling much inspo for that right now! <3 Have a nice day/night
Seth Clearwater x Fem!Swan!Reader
Bella Swan x Sister!Reader
Word count: 3056
Warnings: Imprinting
Y/N: Your Name
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!
If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!
Masterlist
If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee!
(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
*Seth’s POV*
The bonfire smelled like saltwater, smoke, and wet cedar. It clung to everything, my hoodie, the sand beneath my sneakers, the cold night air rolling in from First Beach. I liked it. Most people from Forks avoided La Push after dark unless they were heading to the beach party, but I always loved nights like this. Loud laughter, crashing waves, embers floating into the sky like tiny stars.
Emily stood near the fire pit, passing paper plates around while Quil and Embry argued over music choices. Jared was trying to steal food directly off the grill despite Kim slapping his hand away every five seconds. It was normal. Well, as normal as things ever got when you’re secretly a giant wolf.
I leaned back against the driftwood log, grinning while Brady lost spectacularly at trying to toss bottle caps into an empty soda can. Then the familiar roar of a motorcycle echoed down the road. Jacob. I looked up automatically. The old rabbit-red truck following behind the bike made me blink. Bella Swan. That wasn’t surprising anymore. Bella came around pretty often now. The surprising part was the second girl climbing out of the truck. I frowned slightly. She looked younger than Bella, smaller too. Dark brown hair whipping around her face in the ocean wind. Oversized green hoodie swallowing her frame whole. Converse half-covered in sand, the second she stepped onto the beach. She glanced around uncertainly, staying close to Bella.
“Bella brought company?” Embry muttered.
Jacob parked the bike and pulled his helmet off. “Don’t start.”
“I wasn’t starting anything.”
“You were literally starting something.”
I barely heard them, because the second the girl laughed softly at something Bella said, the entire world stopped. Not metaphorically, actually stopped. The sound of waves disappeared. The fire vanished. The pack voices in my head cut into static. And suddenly there was only her.
The girl looked up. Brown eyes. Warm, curious, nervous, beautiful. I forgot how to breathe. My heart slammed once against my ribs so hard it physically hurt. Then again. Again. Oh. Oh. No way… No freaking way… The realization hit like a truck. Imprinting. I heard the stories my whole life. Sam and Emily. Jared and Kim. Quil and Claire. The instant certainty. The complete inability to look away. The horrifying, Earth-shattering understanding that your entire life had just changed forever. I had always secretly thought it sounded exaggerated. It wasn’t. Because suddenly every molecule in my body oriented toward one thing. Her. Protect her. Stay near her. Make her smile. Make sure she never looks sad again.
My wolf exploded awake inside me so violently I nearly staggered. Across the beach, every member of the pack froze because they heard it. Every single horrifying thought.
“Oh my God…” Embry choked aloud.
“NO WAY!” Quil shouted.
Jared burst out laughing so hard he nearly fell over. Jacob’s head whipped toward me instantly. I could practically feel the collective psychic whiplash slam through the bond. SETH IMPRINTED! HOLY CRAP! She’s tiny. Dude, he looks like he’s gonna pass out. I wanted to die. I was still staring. I couldn’t stop staring.
The girl shifted awkwardly under the attention. “Um…”
Bella looked between us in confusion. Jacob swore quietly under his breath. The girl looked at me again, eyebrows pulling together slightly.
“Is he okay?”
Bella turned toward Jacob immediately. “Jake?”
Jacob rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, he’s fine, uh…” He pointed vaguely toward the trees.
“Give us a second.”
I still hadn’t moved. I couldn’t move. Her face scrunched slightly in concern. It was the cutest thing I had ever seen in my entire existence.
Dude, stop staring before you scare her. Embry thought hysterically.
I CAN’T!
That only made Jared laugh harder.
“Okay…” Bella said slowly, clearly confused.
Jacob marched straight toward me, grabbed my shoulder, and turned me around. The second the girl, Y/N, that was her name apparently, left my line of sight, the rest of the world crashed violently back into place. Noise, wind, cold, my heartbeat.
“Breathe, you idiot.” Jacob hissed.
“I am breathing.”
“You are absolutely not.” Leah said.
I inhaled so sharply it almost became a wheeze. Quil was openly crying-laughing now.
“Shut up!” I snapped automatically.
“You imprinted!” Quil yelled.
“I know!”
“On Bella Swan’s baby sister!”
Embry looked delighted. “Awww, Seth’s in loooove.”
“I will literally kill you.”
“You can’t.” Jared said smugly. “Imprinters are legally prohibited from murder.”
“That’s not a thing!”
“It should be…”
I dragged both hands down my face. My entire body felt electric, like every nerve ending had been set on fire. I could still smell her perfume in the air, something soft and floral mixed with rain. I was doomed. Sam, Jacob, and Leah looked far less amused than the others. Sam folded his arms across his chest, expression somewhere between exhausted and sympathetic.
“Okay. Everybody, calm down before you scare the poor girl off.”
“I’m calm.” I argued automatically.
“You’re vibrating.” Leah deadpanned.
I looked down, my leg was bounding so aggressively the sand around my sneaker was shifting.
“Oh…”
Embry snorted. Jacob pinched the bridge of his nose again. “Can we maybe not make this worse?”
“Too late.” Jared said cheerfully.
Quil grinned at me. “So when’s the wedding?”
I lunged at him. He yelped and darted backward while the other laughed.
“Seth!”
“I’m gonna kill him!”
Sam stepped between us before I could tackle Quil. “Enough!”
The Alpha voice slid into his tone just enough to make everybody straighten automatically, even me. Sam sighed heavily once we were quiet again.
“Seth, breathe. Focus.”
“I am focused.”
The pack snickered. I galred at all of them. Sam ignored the chaos and looked at me more carefully. Unlike the others, he wasn’t teasing anymore.
“You know what this means, right?”
My chest tightened instantly. Yeah, I knew. Imprinting wasn’t just some crush. It wasn’t temporary. It wasn’t optional. It was forever, and somehow that didn’t scare me nearly as much as it probably should have. Because the idea of never seeing Y/N again already felt impossible. Sam’s expression softened slightly like he could read the panic written all over my face.
“First thing, stop acting like she’s made of glass.”
“I’m not-”
“You are.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it again, because maybe I was. Okay, definitely.
“She’s still a person.” Sam continued. “She’s gonna get nervous if you stare at her like she personally controls the moon.”
Embry wheezed laughing behind me. I ignored him, mostly because Sam was right. I probably looked insane. Sam leaned back against one of the rocks.
“Imprinting doesn’t erase who she is. Doesn’t mean she loses choices. It just means your wolf decided she’s the center of your universe now.”
That… sounded horrifyingly accurate, actually.
“And before your brain melts completely.” Leah added dryly. “No, you don’t have to immediately become some creepy obsessed stalker.”
“Leah.” Jacob warned.
“What? I’m helping.” She rolled her eyes.
I rubbed my hands over my face again. “Okay, but what do I actually do?”
“Nothing.” Sam answered immediately.
I blinked. “What?”
“You let her set the pace.”
That shut me up. Sam’s voice got more serious.
“Listen carefully, Seth. Imprinting feels overwhelming for us, not them. She didn’t ask for this. She doesn’t even know what imprinting really means yet.”
Guilt twisted in my stomach immediately, because yeah, from Y/N’s perspective, some random guy on a beach had basically blue-screened staring at her. Fantastic first impression. Sam must’ve noticed my expression because his tone softened again.
“Relax. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yet.” Leah muttered.
“Leah!”
She shrugged unapologetically. Jacob finally pushed off the tree beside us.
“Bella kinda already told her about us anyway, so at least we don’t have to explain the wolf thing.”
Sam’s head snapped toward him so fast it almost blurred. “She what?”
Jacob immediately looked like he regretted speaking.
“Bella told Y/N about us.” He repeated cautiously.
Sam stared at him. “Bella isn’t supposed to tell anyone.”
Jacob lifted both hands defensively. “It’s okay, Y/N’s chill. Like Bella.”
Leah barked out a laugh. “Bella is not chill.”
Jacob pointed at her dramatically. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I really don’t.” Leah said.
Jacob sighed. “Okay, she’s not chill in the same sense Bella is.”
Bella’s version of chill mostly involved willingly hanging around vampires and jumping off cliffs, apparently.
Leah crossed her arms. “Then what does that even mean?”
Jacob glanced toward the bonfire where Y/N sat perched on a driftwood log near Emily, quietly listening while Kim talked to her. And my stupid imprinting brain immediately focused on her again. God… even from here she looked beautiful with firelight flickering across her face. I was hopeless.
Jacob snorted softly. “She’s kinda got the same energy as Seth, just not as puppy-like.”
“Hey!” I protested. The entire pack burst into laughter.
Embry clutched his chest dramatically. “Oh my God, that’s the perfect description!”
“You literally got excited over toaster waffles.” Leah added.
“That happened one time!”
“It happened yesterday.” Jared corrected.
I glared at all of them while they laughed harder.
Jacob shook his head. “You know what I mean. She’s energetic, loud once she gets comfortable, kind of sarcastic.”
That made me pause. Sarcastic? For some reason, that immediately made me like her even more. Fantastic. I was doomed in every possible direction. My attention snapped back toward the bonfire when Bella started walking toward us. Y/N stayed behind, sitting on the leg, tugging the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands while Emily talked to her softly. Every instinct in me screamed to go sit beside her. Instead, I stayed rooted exactly where I was because Sam’s warning echoed in my head. Let her set the pace. Bella stopped in front of Jacob, arms crossed tightly.
“Jake, what’s going on?”
Jacob visibly braced himself. “Uh…”
Bella narrowed her eyes immediately. “Jacob.”
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Remember how I told you about imprinting a few months ago?”
Bella blinked once. “Yeah?”
Jacob pointed directly at me. “Well… Seth kind of imprinted on your sister.”
Bella stared at him. Then at me. Then slowly back toward Y/N, sitting by the fire.
“Oh my God.”
My stomach stopped straight into the sand. Bella looked utterly horrified for half a second before her expression shifted into disbelief.
“Wait, seriously?”
Jake nodded cautiously.
Embry stage-whispered. “He stared at her so hard I thought he was gonna pass away.”
“I hate you.” I muttered.
Bella ignored us entirely, still staring at me. “You imprinted on Y/N?”
“Yeah…” There was no point denying it.
To my complete shock, Bella didn’t freak out. Instead, she looked weirdly fascinated.
“That’s why everyone froze?”
“Yeah.” Jake said tiredly.
Bella looked back at me slowly. And then, to my horror, she started laughing. Not in a mean way, more like shocked laughter.
“Oh my God!” She wheezed. “Y/N is never gonna let you live this down.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked cautiously.
Bella grinned suddenly. “She’s gonna tease you so bad once she realized you’re nervous around her.”
The back immediately erupted again.
“He is nervous!” Jared yelled.
“I am not!”
“You almost inhaled your own tongue!”
“That didn’t happen!”
Bella was still laughing now, shaking her head. “Poor Seth.”
Poor Seth!? I was being attacked! Emotionally attacked! Sam looked mildly relieved Bella wasn’t panicking.
“You’re okay with this?”
Bella’s laughter faded into something more thoughtful as she glanced back toward her sister. Y/N was smiling faintly at something Emily said now, shoulders now relaxed than before. Bella softened immediately.
“She liked you guys already.”
My heart nearly exploded. “What?”
Bella looked back at me. “She’s shy around new people. If she didn’t like you, she’d be hiding behind me right now.”
The amount of hope that slammed into my chest should’ve been illegal. Bella smirked slightly before looking back toward Y/N again. Then her expression shifted into protective older-sister mode.
“But if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” She said calmly.
Jake immediately barked out laughing.
“Bella.” Sam warned.
“What? I’m serious.”
“I won’t hurt her.” I said quietly, and I meant it so fiercely it physically hurt. Bella studied me for a long moment, then finally nodded once.
“Okay.”
For a second no one moved. Then Embry clapped his hands together loudly.
“Alright! Emotional trauma over. Back to the bonfire!”
“Thank God…” Leah muttered.
Jared slung an arm around my shoulders as everybody started heading back toward the fire. “So, you gonna actually talk to her now or just stare at her until she gets a restraining order?”
“I hate this pack.”
“No you don’t.”
The closer we got to the bonfire, the harder my heart pounded. Y/N was still sitting on the driftwood log beside Emily, one sneaker absently kicking against the sand while Kim talked animatedly beside her. The firelight flickered across her face. God. Every time I looked at her it felt like getting hit by a truck. Emily noticed us approaching first. Her eyes flicked between me and Y/N knowingly before she smiled softly.
“Everything sorted out?”
“Debatable.” Jacob muttered.
Bella immediately walked over to her sister while the rest of us awkwardly hovered nearby like complete idiots. Y/N looked up the second we approached. Her eyes landed on me for barely half a second before she smiled politely. My brain shut off again.
“Hi.” She said.
“Oh my God! He’s buffering!” Quil thought through the link. I elbowed him hard without looking away from her.
“Ow!”
Y/N blinked in confusion. Bella looked like she was actively trying not to laugh again.
“Y/N,” Jacob said quickly before I could humiliate myself further. “this is everybody. That’s Embry, Jared, Quil, Paul, Sam, Emily, Kim, Leah, and her little brother Seth.”
Everyone waved or nodded.
Y/N smiled shyly. “Hi.”
Embry immediately grinned. “You’re way calmer about this than Bella was.”
Bella rolled her eyes. “I was perfectly calm.”
“You punched Paul in the face.”
“That was unrelated.”
“It literally was not.”
Y/N laughed softly. The sound hit me straight in the chest. Again. Everything about her did. Emily scooted slightly on the driftwood log, making room.
“Sit down before you all start making the girl uncomfortable.”
I hesitated for maybe half a second before carefully sitting beside Y/N. Not too close, but not far enough away that my wolf liked it. Her shoulder was maybe six inches from mine. I was hyperaware of every inch.
“So…” She said after a moment, glancing at me sideways. “you feeling less like you’re about to faint now?”
The entire pack went dead silent, then exploded laughing.
“Oh, she’s definitely like Seth!” Embry wheezed.
My face instantly felt like it was on fire.
“I wasn’t gonna faint.” I mumbled.
“You kinda looked like you were.” She admitted.
“I hate all of you.”
“You keep saying that.” Leah said dryly.
Y/N smiled a little wider at that. A tiny victory, I clung to it immediately. Bella sat across from us on another log, watching with the most entertained expression I’ve ever seen on her face. Y/N tucked a stand of her hair behind her ear and looked back at me curiously.
“So, how long have you all known each other?”
“Forever basically.” I answered automatically. “La Push is small.”
“That explains why you all act like siblings.”
“We’re emotionally codependent.” Jared said solemnly.
“Speak for yourself.” Leah muttered.
“You threatened Paul with a tire iron last week.”
“He deserved it.”
Y/N laughed again. Okay, maybe Bella was right because once she relaxed a little she really did have the same kind of energy as me. Sarcastic, easy laughter, warm, and I was absolutely screwed.
“So,” Y/N said after another minute, glancing between all of us. “do bonfires here always turn into group interventions or was today special?”
Embry pointed directly at me. “Special.”
I groaned. Y/N looked amused now more than nervous.
“You guys keep saying weird things like that.”
“Because Seth’s being weird.” Quil said immediately.
“I am not!”
Y/N looked between us slowly, eyebrows pulling together in confusion.
“Okay seriously, what’s up with you, dude?”
Every single wolf at the bonfire went silent.
Oh no.
I froze. “Um…” I said intelligently.
Y/N waited.
“Uh…”
Bella finally took pity on me, or maybe she just wanted chaos. Probably both. She leaned forward slightly, looking directly at her sister.
“He imprinted on you.”
The world stopped again. My eyes widened instantly. Y/N’s eyes widened too. The crackling bonfire suddenly sounded way too loud.
“...What?”
Bella pointed vaguely toward me. “The wolf soulmate thing Jacob told me about it.”
Y/N blinked once. Twice. Then very slowly turned toward me. I wanted the Earth to swallow me whole. Now she knew, like actually knew. And suddenly I couldn’t breathe again because what if this freaked her out? What if-
“Oh…” She said softly.
I braced for panic. Instead she looked… stunned. Not upset, just stunned. Her gaze flicked over my face carefully, almost like she was trying to piece things together.
“That’s…” She let out a short nervous laugh. “Wow.”
“I can explain!” I blurted immediately.
Embry made a strangled noise behind me. I ignored him.
“It’s not like… I mean it is… but not in a creepy way!” I was actively dying.
“God, that sounded creepy…”
Y/N stared at me for another second, then suddenly her lips twitched. And before I could process it, she laughed. Not mocking or uncomfortable, just genuinely surprised laughter.
“Well, I didn’t expect to be someone’s soulmate today.” She said, pulling her sleeves further over her hands. My brain completely stopped functioning. The entire pack went emotionally feral in my head.
Oh my God! She called herself his soulmate!
Seth is gonna pass out!
Look at his face!”
I buried my face in my hands.
Please stop talking.
Y/N laughed harder. Sitting there beside her, listening to that sound while the fire crackled and the ocean roared behind us, I realized something terrifying. Sam was right. My whole world really had changed in a single second. And somehow… I didn’t mind at all.
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!
If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!
Masterlist
If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee!
(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
*3rd Person POV*
The motel room smelled like stale coffee, gun oil, and the cheap floral cleaner every roadside inn in America seemed to buy in bulk. Rain tapped softly against the window while the television muttered low in the corner, ignored by everyone inside the room. Sixteen-year-old Y/N Winchester sat cross-legged on one of the beds, carefully wrapping fresh gauze around Dean’s bruised knuckles.
“You punk walls too much.” She muttered quietly.
Dean snorted from where he sat shirtless on the edge of the mattress. “Occupational hazard, baby.”
Her lips twitched faintly. “Dad says it’s because you have anger issues.”
“Dad says a lot of things.”
Across the room, Sam huffed a laugh from behind an old lore book. John glanced up briefly from cleaning his handgun at the small table.
“Watch the attitude.” John warned.
Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t push further. Y/N immediately glanced between them, the familiar nervous reflex deeply ingrained by years of trying to keep peace between the three men she loved most.
“It’s done.” She said softly, trying off the bandage around Dean’s hand.
Dean flexed his fingers experimentally before nudging her shoulder with his own.
“Thanks, baby girl.”
She smiled automatically. That smile was the problem. Sam noticed it first years ago. Dean noticed it too, though neither brother ever talked about it aloud. Y/N smiled differently around John. Softer, safer, like she truly believed he hung the moon. And John… God, John treated her differently, too. Not normal Dad differently, John Winchester was incapable of being normal, but softer. Gentler around the edges. She still trained, still hunted, still lived in motel rooms and survived on greasy diner food and fake credit card scams. But Y/N got blankets draped over her when she fell asleep in the backseat. She got forehead kisses before hunts. She got called princess. Sam and Dean got boys. Dean used to pretend it didn’t bother him. Then Y/N turned eight, and John drover three hours out of their way because she mentioned wanting strawberry pancakes from a diner she liked. Three hours. Dean had nearly died from a wendigo bite two weeks ealier, and John barely blinked. But Y/N pouted once, and suddenly the world stopped spinning. Dean hated how much that hurt. Not because of Y/N, she adored them. Absolutely worshipped both of her older brothers.
When she was little, she cried anytime Dean left for supply runs because she thought monsters would eat him. She used to crawl into Sam’s lap during thunderstorms with stuffed animals tucked under her chin. She never bragged about being Dad’s favorite. Honestly, she barely seemed aware of it. That somehow made it worse.
“You finish your research?” John asked Sam.
“Almost.” Sam answered without looking up.
Y/N slid off the bed and wandered over to him, peering down at the lore book.
“Anything useful?”
Sam’s expression softened instantly. It always did around her.
“Maybe.” He said. “Looks like the disappearances line up with demon omens.”
Her face fell slightly. Demons were bad news. Not ghost bad, not vampire bad, demon bad.
John stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket. “Then we move tonight.”
Dean frowned immediately. “Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight.”
“It’s pouring outside.”
John’s eyes flicked toward Y/N briefly before returning to Dean. “Demons won’t stop because of weather.”
Dean bit back whatever sharp response wanted out. Y/N quietly touched Dean’s arm. Instantly, some of the tension drained from his shoulders.
“Okay.” He muttered.
Sam noticed the exchange and looked away. That was the other thing, Y/N had become the glue holding everyone together. She didn’t even realize she was doing it.
The abandoned cannery stood near the edge of town, rusted metal shrieking beneath the storm winds. Lightning illuminated broken windows and collapsing catwalks. Dean hated this already.
“You stay between us.” John ordered Y/N as they approached.
She nodded obediently, shot gun clutched tightly in her small hands. At sixteen, she was good on hunts. Too good. John made sure of that. But tonight she looked nervous.
Dean bumped her shoulder gently. “Hey.”
She looked up.
“We got you.”
Her smile appeared again, small and trusting. Dean would burn the world down before letting anything happen to her. Which was exactly why the next twenty minutes destroyed him. It happened fast. Too fast.
One second they were sweeping the lower level of the cannery. The next, light exploded overhead. Black smoke poured form the shadows. Growling voices echoed everywhere at once. Demons.
“Circle up!” John barked.
Dean shoved Y/N behind him automatically while Sam risaed his gun. Then screaming metal echoed overhead. Dean looked up just in time to see the catwalk collapse.
“MOVE!”
Everyone scattered. The floor trembled violently as rusted steel crashed between them. Dean hit the ground hard. Sam cursed somewhere nearby. John shouted Y/N’s name immediately. Dean’s stomach dropped.
“Y/N!?”
The smoke thickened unnaturally.
Dean scrambled up, coughing hard. “SAM!”
Then he heard it. A scream. Her scream. Terrified, cut off abruptly. Dean’s bllood ran cold.
“NO!”
He vaulted over debris while Sam and John rushed after him, but by the time they reached the far hallway… nothing. Only blood smeared across the concrete.
“No no no no-” Dean paced violently across the motel room while Sam worked through lore books at hyperspeed and John barked into burner phones. Three hours. She’s been gone for three hours. Dean felt like his skin was being peeled off inch by inch.
“She’s smart.” Sam said quietly, though his own voice shook. “She knows how to survive.”
Dean whirled on him. “She’s sixteen!”
“She’s been hunting since she was a kid!”
“That doesn’t make this okay!”
John slammed his phone onto the table. Silence fell instantly. For one horrible second, Dean saw it. Fear, real fear in John Winchester’s eyes. Not anger. Not obsession. Terror.
“She’s alive.” John said roughly.
“How do you know?” Dean demanded.
John swallowed hard. “They want something.”
Dean hated that he was probably right. Demons didn’t take hostages for hun. Usually.
Sam rubbed exhausted hands over his face. “The cult.”
John nodded once.
“They know we have it.”
Dean stopped pacing.
“So they took her to trade”
“Or bait.” Sam muttered darkly.
John’s jaw clenched.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
“She’s gonna think we left her.” Dean said quietly.
John looked like he’d been punched. Because that was the real horror, wasn’t it? Y/N trusted them completely, and now she was alone.
Y/N woke slowly. Pain arrived first, sharp throbbing agony across her ribs and face. Then cold. Metal chains dug brutally into her wrists above her head. The room smelled like sulfur and rot. Her breathing hitched immediately. No… No no no… She tried pulling against the restraints and cried out when pain exploded through her shoulder.
“Well look who’s awake.” A man stepped from the shadows. Exacpt not a man. Black eyes. Demon. Y/N immediately tried for the knife she no longer had. The demon laughed.
“That’s adorable.”
Fear clawed violently up her throat, but she forced herself not to cry. Dean always said monsters liked fear. She wouldn’t give them that.
“Where’s my family?” She demanded shakily.
The demon grinned wider. “Oh sweetheart, they’re looking everywhere for you.”
Her heart twisted painfully.
Dean.
Sam.
Dad.
“They’ll find me.” She whispered.
The demon stepped closer suddenly and grabbed her jaw hard enough to bruise.
“You know what your daddy’s problem is?”
She glared silently.
“He loves you too much.” His hand tightened.
“And that makes you useful.”
Y/N jerked away with a gasp. The demon backhanded her instantly. Pain exploded across her mouth. Blood filled her mouth immediately.
Dean didn’t sleep. Neither did Sam. John looked worse than both of them combined. By morning, every lead had collapsed into dead ends. Dean sat at the table cleaning guns with mechanical precision while Sam researched symbols nearby. John stood near the window, unmoving. Then Dean heard it. A tiny sound. John praying. Dean froze. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard his Father pray.
“Please…” John whispered hoarsely. “Please let her be alive.”
Dean looked away immediately. Because suddenly the jealousy felt ugly and petty. Yeah, John favored her. Yeah, it hurt. But this? This was still their Father. And Y/N was still his little girl. Sam quietly closed his book.
“We’ll get her back.”
John nodded once without turning around, but his shoulders shook.
Y/N lost track of time. The demons alternated between questioning her and hurting her. Where was the colt? Where were they staying? Where was John going next? She refused to answer. Even when they hit her. Even when they dragged blades across her skin shallow enough to hurt but not kill. Even when they laughed at her tears. Eventually she stopped crying aloud. That seemed to annoy them more. One demon crouched in front of her several hours later, studying her battered face.
“You know, your brothers are much more fun to torture.” He mused.
Y/N’s head lifted weakly. “What?”
“Oh yeah. We’ve watched them for years.” He grinned cruelly.
Rage flared through her exhaustion instantly.
“Don’t talk about them.”
The demon laughed loudly. “There’s that Winchester rage.”
She lunged as much as the chains allowed. The demon slammed a fist into her ribs. Something cracked, Y/N screamed. The demon grabbed her hair viciously.
The lead came from a crossroads demon in Nebraska. Three dead hunters. One terrified bartender. An abandoned church outside town. Dean drove like a man possessed. Rain hammered the Impala while Sam loaded weapons in the backseat and John sat rigidly in the passenger seat. No music played. Nobody spoke.
“She used to sleep on my chest during storms.”
Dean blinked.
John stared ahead through the windshield.
“When she was little. Said thunder scared her.” He continued roughly.
Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“She still hates storms.” Sam said softly.
John nodded.
Silence again.
Then Dean finally said what none of them had dared say aloud.
“If they hurt her…”
John’s expression turned murderous. “I’ll kill every last one.”
Sam and Dean believed him.
The chruch looked dead. Rotting wood, broken stained glass, darkness swallowing everything inside. But Dean heard it immediately. A scream. Y/N. All three Winchesters moved instantly. Doors brust open. Gunfire exploded. Black smoke screamed through the air. Demons lunged from every direction. Dean barely registered killing two before hearing another cry deeper inside.
“Y/N!”
“DEAN!”
Alive.
She was alive.
Dean sprinted through the church like hell itself chased him. Sam and John followed close behind. They found her, and everything stopped. Y/N hung chained against a stone wall. Blood covered her shirt. One eye swollen nearly shut. Wrists raw and bleeding from restraints. Bruises everywhere. Dean physically staggered.
“Baby…”
Her head lifed weakly. The second she saw them, she broke. “Dean…”
God…
Her voice…
Tiny and shaking.
Sam looked seconds from vomiting. John’s face smptied completely of emotions, the kind that came right before true violence. A demon stepped from the shadows beside Y/N, blade pressed lightly against her throat.
“Well, family reunion.” He drawled.
Dean raised the colt instantly. “Move the knife.”
The demon smirked. “You first.”
John stepped forward slowly.
“You wanted me, here I am.” He said coldly.
Y/N shook her head frantically despite her exhaustion. “Dad don’t-”
The knife pressed harder. She whipered. Dean saw red instantly. The demon grinned knowingly.
“That protective streak? Definitely inherited.”
Then Sam moved, fast. A flare of holy water splashed across the demon’s face. Screaming erupted. Dean fired immediately. The demon dropped dead. Everything exploded into motion. John rushed to Y/N while Sam covered the room. Dean grabbed the chains, hands shaking violently.
“It’s okay, baby gir.” He said breathlessly. “We got you. We got you.”
She cried openly now, Dean hated seeing it. Hated how terrified she sounded. The chains finally snapped loose. Y/N collapsed instantly, John caught her before she hit the floor.
“Oh my princess.” He breathed brokenly, pulling her against him. She clung to him desperately despite the pain.
“Dad…”
“I’ve got you.” John cradled the back of her carefully, staring at the blood on her face with horrifying fury. Dean knelt beside them, hands hovering helplessly. Y/N crouched nearby too, visibly trying not to lose it.
“They hurt you.” Sam whispered.
Y/N looked at him weakly and somehow still tried to comfort him.
“I’m okay.”
Dean nearly laughed at the absurdity. She was bleeding everywhere.
“She’s got at least one broken rib.” Sam said quickly, slipping into practical mode.
“Possible concussion too.”
John carefully brushed filthy hair from Y/N’s face. “You’re safe now, princess.”
She finally looked at Dean. Then Sam. “I knew you’d come.”
Dean’s throat closed painfully.
“Always.” He said immediately.
“Every time.” Sam added.
Another demon screamed somewhere deeper in the church. John’s expression hardened instantly.
“Dean, get her out.”
“What about-”
“GO!”
Dean nodded immediately. He carefully slid Y/N into his arms. She cried out softly from the pain.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry-”
“It’s okay.” She whispered weakly.
Dean held her tighter. Too thin. Too cold. His baby sister felt too damn small. Sam grabbed weapons while John stalked deeper into the church like death incarnated. More screaming followed. Dean didn’t look back.
The motel room became triage chaos. Sam cleaned wounds, Dean hovered anxiously, John barely let Y/N out of his sight. By some miracle, nothing was life-threatening. A broken rib, heavy bruising, cuts, mild concussion, trauma. Lots of trauma. Y/N sat on the bed wrapped in blankets while Dean gently held an ice pack to her swollen cheek. She winced.
“Sorry.” Dean muttered immediately.
“It’s okay.
John paced nearby like a caged animal. Every few minutes he glanced at her like he needed visual confirmation she was still breathing. Sam finally finished wrapping her wrists.
“All done, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Sammy.”
He smiled faintly at the nickname. Dean tucked another blanket around her shoulders.
“You hungry?”
She hesitated. “A little.”
Dean immediately stood. “I’ll go get food.”
“I’ll help.” Sam added.
The brothers exchanged a glance. Silent understanding passed between them. Give John a minute alone with her. Dean squeezed Y/N’s shoulder gently before leaving with Sam. The second the motel door shut, silence filled the room. John sat slowly beside her on the bed. For several moments neither spoke.
“I’m sorry…” Y/N whispered.
John looked horrified. “For what?”
“They took me to get to you.”
Pain crossed his face instantly.
“Don’t.” He said roughly. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.”
She stared down at her bandaged wrists. “They kept asking about the colt.”
John’s jaw tightened. “I know.”
“I didn’t tell them anything.”
His expression broke completely. “Of course you didn’t.”
Y/N finally looked at him. For the first time since being rescued, her composure cracked entirely.
“I was scared.” She admitted in a tiny voice. John immediately pulled her carefully against his chest.
“I know, princess.”
She stared crying again. Not the panicked sobbing from earlier, this was quieter. Exhausted. Painfully young. John held her like she was still five years old hiding from thunderstorms.
“I thought…” Her voice shook violently. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t find me…”
John closed his eyes hard.
“Never.” He whispered fiercely. “Never, Y/N.”
She buried her face against him. “I tried to be brave.”
“You were brave.”
“They hurt me and I-”
“I know.” John’s voice cracked and suddenly Y/N realized something she never fully understood before. Her Father was terrified too. Not just angry. Terrified. She reached up carefully and touched his face.
“I’m okay now.”
John covered her hand with his own instantly.
“You scared the hell outta me.”
A tiny watery smile appeared. “Sorry.”
He actually laughed softly through the emotions. “That’s my line.”
The motel door opened quietly. Dean entered carrying food bags while Sam follwoed with extra medical supplies. All three froze slightly seeing Y/N curled against John’s chest. Something complicated flickered across Dean’s face. Not resentment exactly, just old hurt. Old longing. Y/N noticed immediately, because she always noticed.
“Dean?”
He snapped out of it instantly. “Yeah, baby?”
She held one arm out toward him. Without hesitation, Dean crossed the room and sat beside her. She immediately curled against his side too. Sam huffed quietly.
“Wow, no room left for me?”
Y/N reached for him blindly without opening her eyes.
“C’mere, Sammy.”
Sam smiled helplessly and climbed onto the other side of the bed carefully. It was cramped and awkward. A tangle of long limbs, blankets, and exhaustion. But none of them moved away.
“You guys are the best family.” Y/N murmured sleepily.
Dean blinked. Sam looked down. John went very still. Y/N’s eyes were already drifting shut. Dean swallowed hard. Sam rubbed tiredly at his eyes. And for the first time in years, John Winchester looked at all three of his children together and truly saw the damage he’d done without meaning to.
Dean, the boy forced to grow up too fast.
Sam, the son who always felt second place.
Y/N, the child he clung too tightly because she was the last piece of softness left in his life.
John slowly reached over and squeezed Dean’s shoulder. It startled all three kids. Dean stared at him.
“You did good.” John said quietly.
Dean looked genuinely shocked. Then John looked at Sam too.
“Both of you.”
Sam’s expression softened carefully. The words were small, but they mattered. Y/N smiled faintly in her sleep, tucked safely between her brothers and Father. And for one rare quiet night, the Winchesters stayed together. No hunting. No fighting. No monsters. Just family. Broken, bruised, imperfect, but alive.
Request: Yes / No Can you do like smut for Lincoln from the 100 x reader and have them be in the forest or in his cave and have Lincoln be on top and like fingering and penitration if that is not too weird and I'm sorry if this is confusing Anon
Requests are open, but for anything I write for but Riverdale, I’m not feeling much inspo for that right now! <3 Have a nice day/night
Lincoln x Fem!Reader
Word count: 1210
Warnings: SMUT!!
Y/N: Your Name
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!
If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!
Masterlist
If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee!
(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
The cave held the damp chill of autumn, but I didn’t feel it, not anymore. Not with Lincoln’s body hovering over mine, the heat from his bare chest seeping through the thin fabric of my shirt. The fire he built crackled somewhere behind me, throwing orange shadows against limestone walls I memorized over these stolen weeks.
“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice rumbled low, the words brushing my forehead.
“Neither should you.” I reached up, fingers tracing the dark ink curling along his collarbone.
“Yet here we are.”
A sound escaped him, half frustration, half something else entirely. The same sound he made every time I slipped past the fence. Right before he gave in. His mouth found my jaw, not kissing exactly, more like mapping. Learning the terrain of me the way he learned every hollow and ridge of the forest outside. My breath caught and held, my spine arching without permission, pressing my hips into the weight of him.
“We have maybe an hour before Bellamy notices I’m gone.” I whispered.
Lincoln pulled back just enough to look at me. Dark eyes, always watching, always seeing too much.
“Then we shouldn’t waste it talking.” His hand slid down my side, over ribs, past the dip of my waist, fingers hooking into the waistband of my pants. But he didn’t pull; he waited.
“Yes…” I breathed before he could ask.
The word barely left my mouth before he tugged the fabric down my thighs. Cool air kissed skin still damp from the humidity outside. My legs feel open, making room, and the way he looked at me, like I was something precious and terrifying all at once, made my stomach drop the way it did when I jumped from the ridge into the river.
“Y/N.”
Just my name. That was all, but the way he said it, rough and reverent, sent a pulse through me that ended somewhere low and deep. His fingers found my center with the confidence of someone who’d done this before. Who learned my body language over nights just like this one, stolen and breathless. He didn’t rush; Lincoln never rushed. The pads of two fingers parted me, sliding through slick heat that had been building since the moment I ducked through the treeline.
“Already?” He murmured, and I could hear the satisfaction curling at the edge of the words.
“Always so ready for me.”
My cheeks burned. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.”
Then his fingers pressed inside, and whatever retort I’d been forming dissolved into the sound that wasn’t a word at all. He worked me open with a patience that bordered on cruelty. One finer, then two, curling forward against a spot that made me see starsbursts behind closed eyelids. My hands fisted the furs beneath me, knuckles going white while the rest of me melted.
“Look at me.” Not a request. A command issued in that quiet voice that trembled slightly, betraying him.
I forced my eyes open. His face hovered above me, jaw tight, the tendons in his neck standing out like cords. The control it cost him to move this slowly was written in every line of his body. I could see it in the way his free arm shook, where it braced beside my head.
“Beautiful.” He said, and the word landed like a physical touch.
His thumb found my clit, circling, pressing, retreating in a rhythm that kept me suspended somewhere between satisfaction and desperation. The dual sensation of being filled and stroked simultaneously stripped language from my brain. I became only a body. Only nerve endings. Only the wet sounds of his fingers working me and the ragged pull of my own breathing.
“Lincoln…” His name broke apart in my mouth. “I need-”
“I know what you need.”
He withdrew his fingers. The absence was immediate and hollowing, and a whimper escaped before I could swallow it. But he was already shifting above me, the rustle of my own clothing being shoved down, kicked aside. The fire popped. A log collapsed, sending sparks spiraling toward the cave ceiling.
Then he was there, the broad head of his cock pressing against my entrance, and my entire awareness narrowed to that single point of contact. He didn’t push in. He hovered there, letting me feel the weight and heat of what was coming, and I wanted to scream.
“Please…” I didn’t care how desperate it sounded. “Lincoln, please…”
His hips rolled forward. The stretch of him, God, the stretch, blurred the edges of the cave. My mouth fell open on a soundless gasp as he sank deeper, inch by deliberate inch, my body accommodating his size with a mix of pleasure and ache that bordered on overwhelming.
“Breathe.” He reminded me, his own voice strained.
I hadn’t realized I stopped. A shuddering exhale, and he slid the rest of the way home. Buried to the hilt. My inner walls fluttered around him, adjusting, and the sensation of being so completely filled pulled a moan from somewhere deep in my chest.
“Okay?” He asked.
In answer, I hooked my legs around his waist and pulled him closer. He started to move. Long, slow strokes that dragged against every sensitive inch of me. The rhythm was deliberate at first, controlled, measured, the same patience he showed with his fingers. But I dug my nails into his shoulders and rolled my hips up to meet him, and something behind his eyes flickered and broke.
“Y/N.” Different now. Less reverent. More desperate.
His pace quickened. The sound of our bodies meeting, skin to skin, slick and urgent, echoed off the cave walls. My head fell back, exposing the line of my throat, and Lincoln’s mouth latched onto my pulse point like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the Earth.
“Harder.” I gasped.
He gave me harder. Each thrust drove the air from my lungs, fucking the thoughts right out of my head until there was nothing left but the relentless rhythm of him moving inside me and the coil of pressure winding tighter at the base of my spine. My legs began to shake. The furs beneath me were damp with sweat. Somewhere beyond the cave, an owl called out, and the sound seemed to come from another world entirely.
“Close.” The word was barely a whisper. “I’m so close, don’t stop, don’t-”
His hand slipped between us. Thumb finding my clit again, pressing down just as he bottomed out. I shattered. The climax ripped through me in a sudden, violent wave that had my back bowing off the furs and Lincoln’s name tearing out of my throat. I clenched around him, pulsing, fluttering, gripping, and through the haze of my own release, I heard him groan, felt the precise moment his control snapped. His hips stuttered. Drove deep. Held. And then, A crash from the darkness beyond the firelight. Lincoln’s body went rigid above mine. His hand clamped over my mouth before I could gasp, his eyes cutting toward the cave entrance, every muscle coiled into warrior readiness. Footsteps.
“What’s the matter, Grounder?” A voice echoed from the shadows, sharp, mocking, and familiar.
“Did you think we wouldn’t notice her slipping away?”
Can you do like smut for Lincoln from the 100 x reader and have them be in the forest or in his cave and have Lincoln be on top and like fingering and penitration if that is not too weird and I'm sorry if this is confusing
Request: Yes / No Hey 🎀 I loooved „The Red Thread“ would you be up for continuing the story? I’d love to read more 🫶🏻 @lotus-888
Requests are open, but for anything I write for but Riverdale, I’m not feeling much inspo for that right now! <3 Have a nice day/night
Caius x Fem!Reader
Word count: 2052
Warnings: Aro being Aro I guess?
Y/N: Your Name
Part 1
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!
If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!
Masterlist
If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee!
(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
*3rd Person POV*
The change in Caius did not happen all at once; that was what unsettled Aro the most. Had it been rage, violence, or obsession, he would have recognized it immediately. Caius had always been a creature of extremes. Cruelty sharpened him. Anger animated him. Even boredom from his brother was usually expressed through cold irritation or bloody efficiency. But this? This was quieter. And therefore far more dangerous.
For weeks, Caius had vanished from the tower without explanation. Not often enough to draw attention from the guard, but enough for Aro to notice the pattern. Always after dusk, always alone, and always returning hours later with something strangely alive in his expression. Not happiness, Caius was not built for happiness, but anticipation. It lingered around him like smoke. Even Marcus noticed, and Marcus noticed very little these days.
The ancient vampire sat motionless in the great chamber while petitions droned on below them. His red eyes tracked Caius as his brother stood rigid beside the throne, pale fingers tightening almost imperceptibly against the armrest.
“He’s distracted.” Marcus murmured eventually.
Aro’s lips curved. “Mm, you see it too.”
Caius’s gaze snapped toward them instantly. Sharp. Suspicious.
“I hear you.” He said flatly.
“Of course you do.” Aro replied pleasantly. “Your hearing has always been exceptional.”
Caius narrowed his eyes. Marcus continued staring at him with eerie calm.
“You leave often now.”
Aro leaned forward slightly, intrigued by the fractional pause before Caius answered.
“I patrol the city.”
“Personally?” Aro asked softly.
Caius’s jaw tightened.
“The guard is capable.” Marcus added.
“I did not realize my movement required approval.” The edge in his voice would have terrified most immortals. Aro only smiled wider.
“No approval, brother. Merely curiosity.”
Caius rose abruptly from his throne. “Then satisfy it elsewhere.”
And he left. The chamber echoed in silence after his departure. Aro slowly steepled his fingers beneath his chin.
“Well, that was fascinating.” He said lightly.
Marus’s expression remained distant, but his eyes lingered on the doorway long after Caius vanished.
“There’s a bond.”
Aro turned immediately. “You saw one?”
Marcus rarely spoke about his gift anymore. Centuries of witnessing emotional ties had dulled his interest in nearly all of them. Human affection flickered weakly to him. Vampire alliances were brittle and political. But mate bonds, those were different. Ancient. Unbreakable. Marcus looked almost awake for the first time in decades.
“Not fully formed, but growing.” He said quietly.
Aro’s smile disappeared. For a long moment, neither brother spoke. Then Aro laughed softly in disbelief.
“Caius?”
Marcus gave a single nod.
Interesting did not begin to cover it.
The following night, they followed him. Not openly, Caius would never tolerate that. The streets of Volterra glowed gold beneath the moonlight, narrow alleys winding with tourists and locals alike. Human voices echoed through the city, warm and oblivious. Aro moved soundlessly across the rooftops beside Marcus. Below them, Caius walked through the crowds in a dark coat, expression carved from marble. Yet there was purpose in every step. Expectation. Aro watched with growing fascination as Caius turned down familiar streets with increasing speed, though he clearly fought the instinct to hurry.
“He’s eager.” Aro murmured.
Marcus’s eyes unfocused slightly. “The bond is stronger tonight.”
Aro practically glowed with curiosity now. They followed Caius to a small piazza near the edge of the city, and then they saw her. Human. Young. Laughing softly as she stood near a fountain beneath strings of golden lights. She spotted Caius immediately. Her entire face brightened. Aro nearly stopped moving altogether because Caius, Caius smiled back. Not the cruel, mocking curl of lips he used during executions. Not the cold politeness he wore during diplomacy. A real smile. Subtle. But devastatingly genuine.
“Well… this is unprecedented.” Aro whispered.
Marcus had gone utterly still. Invisible threads stretched around the girl in brilliant lines only he could see. Emotional connections laced between every human in the square, weak and fleeting. But the bond between Caius and the girl burned like molten gold. Ancient. Absolute. Mate. Marcus looked at his brother standing beside the human female with impossible softness hidden beneath centuries of brutality, and something strange crossed his face. Not amusement, but something almost wistful.
“He’s gone.” Marcus said quietly.
Aro arched a brow.
“Oh?”
Marcus continued watching the bond strengthen every second Caius remained near her.
“There is no world now where he lets her go.” Marcus murmured.
*Caius’s POV*
I knew they were following me long before I saw them. Aro cloaked himself in elegance, in performance, but I had known him for thousands of years. Marcus was quieter, emptier, but his silence had weight. Presence. They were there, watching, and still, I went to her.
Perhaps that alone should have terrified me more than it did. The apartment was dim when I arrived, lit only by the amber glow of candles Y/N insisted made the place feel “less ancient.” Human clutter had begun infecting the rooms in small, impossible ways. A book left open on the sofa, her shoes abandoned near the door, a half-finished cup of tea cooling on the table beside the window. Signs of life. Signs of her. She looked up immediately when I entered and smiled. That smile had become my greatest weakness.
“You disappeared for two days.” She accused softly, though there was no real anger in it.
“Duties.”
“You say that like you’re a medieval king.”
I removed my coat slowly. “In many ways, I am.”
She laughed quietly at that, thinking it another strange joke. Humans had remarkable ability to ignore impossible truths until confronted directly with them. Though Y/N no longer had that luxury. Not after the first week… Not after I lost control. I crossed the room toward her carefully, every movement deliberate. She watched me approach with that same dangerous trust that still unsettled me nightly.
“You’re hungry again.” She murmured.
Perceptive little thing.
My throat burned viciously. Her scent saturated the apartment entirely now, woven into every fabric and surface until existing inside these rooms felt like exquisite torture.
“Yes.”
Fear should have existed here.
It didn’t.
Instead, she tilted her head slightly, exposing the elegant line of her throat to me without hesitation. My restraint nearly snapped on the spot.
“Y/N…” I said quietly. “you should not make it so easy for me.”
Her pulse fluttered faster beneath her skin.
“Would you rather I fight?” The confident tease in her voice was both flattering and deeply alarming, because she trusted me absolutely… and I was not a safe creature to trust. I reached for her slowly, fingertips brushing against her jaw before sliding down her throat. Heat pulsed against my pal.
Alive.
Fragile.
Mine.
The possessive instinct had become impossible to ignore now. It threaded through every thought I had concerning her. I bent my head. Her breathing caught slowly when my lips brushed her skin first, cold marble against living warmth. Then my teeth pierced her throat carefully. Blood flooded my mouth. I closed my eyes immediately.
God.
Every single time felt worse. Or better? I could no longer distinguish anything I had tasted in over three millennia, sweet enough to drive me feral, rich enough to eclipse thought entirely. It burned through my throat like fire and silk simultaneously. Y/N shivered beneath my hands. I forced myself to drink slowly… Carefully… Reverently. A soft sound escaped her when my hand tightened instinctively at her waist.
“You tase…” I murmured against her skin, voice roughened by thirst. “like something heaven itself would kill to keep.”
Her fingers slid into my hair weakly. I should stop, I knew that… Instead, I drank another pulse. Another. Another. My control frayed violently.
“You are perfect for me.” I whispered. “Do you understand? Perfect.”
Her heartbeat stumbled erratically.
“I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.” That was the horrifying truth of it. Not kingdoms. Not power. Not bloodshed. Her. Her blood. Her heartbeat. Her warmth beside me at night while the rest of the world remained cold and distant.
I finally pulled back before instinct overwhelmed reason entirely. A thin line of crimson trailed down her throat. I stared at it with naked hunger before licking it away automatically. Y/N looked dazed when our eyes met.
“You always look angry afterward.” She whispered.
Because I was angry. At myself. At her. At fate for creating something capable of reducing me to this. I cupped her face carefully.
“You have ruined me.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “That sounds dramatic.”
“It is accurate.”
I leaned my forehead briefly against her, breathing in her scent despite the agony it caused.
“I love you blood.” I admitted quietly. “More than I should. More than I can endure sensibly.”
Her pulse accelerated again.
“And you,” I continued, voice lowering further. “are dangerously accepting of this.”
“You’ve never hurt me.”
The words struck harder than they should have, because she believed them completely. Perhaps the most disturbing part was that I would tear apart the world before I allowed harm to reach her now.
A soft clap echoed from the doorway, slow and amused. I went perfectly still. Aro… Y/N startled violently as Aro stepped from the shadows beside Marcus, both of them impossibly composed. My arm moved around her instantly, pulling her behind me on instinct. Aro’s crimson eyes flicked to the fading bite marks on her throat. Then to the blood still staining my mouth. His smile widened.
“Well, this is significantly more intimate than I anticipated.” He said pleasantly.
I bared my teeth before I could stop myself. “You entered here uninvited.”
Marcus said nothing at first, though his eyes lingered on Y/N with unnerving intensity. I knew what he saw. The bond, fully formed now. Unbreakable. Y/N gripped the back of my coat tightly. Fear radiated from her heartbeat at last.
Good.
She should fear them.
Aro tilted his head slightly.
“So, our dear brother has not only revealed our existence to a human…” His gaze dropped meaningfully to her throat.
“But has apparently decided to keep her.”
“She is under my protection.” I said coldly.
Aro laughed softly.
“Yes, that is abundantly obvious.”
Y/N’s voice came quieter behind me. “Caius…”
I reached back immediately, taking her hand without looking away from my brothers.
Marcus finally spoke. “You love her.”
Not a question.
A fact.
Silence stretched, then Aro sighed dramatically.
“Oh, Caius. You are breaking our law rather spectacularly.”
“I am aware of our laws.”
“Are you?” Aro asked pleasantly. “Because last I checked, humans aware of vampire existence are generally executed.”
Y/N went rigid behind me. My eyes flashed instantly.
“No one touches her.”
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Aro studdied me for a long moment, then smiled… And somehow that was worse.
“She could tell people.” He said softly. “Humans gossip. They panic. They expose.”
“She won’t.”
“You cannot guarantee eternity from a human lifespan.”
I moved subtly more in front of her. Predatory instinct. Protect. Mine. Aro noticed, natually. Marcus watched the exchange with strange stillness, his ancient eyes fixed on the bond threading between us like molten gold. Finally, Aro collapsed his hands behind his back.
“Well, since killing her would apparently send you into several centuries of homicidal grief…” He smiled brightly at Y/N. “We shall compromise.”
I narrowed my eyes immediately.
“Aro.”
“You have two choices,” He continued smoothly. “Either you transform her soon…” His gaze flicked meaningfully toward Y/N. “or she returns with us to the castle.”
Y/N blinked. “The castle?”
“The Volturi residence.” Marus clarified quietly.
Aro nodded. “There, Caius may feed from you freely without risking exposure. You would remain protected. Hidden.” His smile sharpened faintly. “And eventually, if he chooses, he may change you himself.”
Silence crashed through the room. I could hear Y/N’s heartbeat pounding violently now. Human. Fragile. Terrified. And despire everything, she stepped closer to me instead of away. My dead heart would have stopped if capable. Aro noticed that too.
“Fascinating.” He murmured.
I looked down at her finally, her eyes searched mine carefully.
“You’d really take me there?”
I answered without hesitation.
“Yes.” Because there was no world left where I let her go.
Request: Yes / No ☆Hi again! Could you do a oneshot for the cullens x vampire!fem!reader but the reader is like a vampire cannibal because when she was turned she had witch blood in her veins and she ended up draining the person who turned her because she developed special vemon to liquidify a vampires hard insides into a silver blood like state. Anyways she runs to the cullens when she hears that they are gathering witnesses to defend the existence of Bella Cullens' daughter and [reader] ends up talking to some of the different covens there and they ask her questions about her lifestyle as a different kind of vampire, then when they are around the campfire the night before the battle telling stories; [reader] tells them how she was turned. Also could you add the volturi finding out about her existence when the cullens' + their witnesses and the volturi meet in the snowy field too.☆☆(Also side note: since she drinks vampire blood and I kinda imagine it's silvery and shiny (like their skin is in the sun) her eyes are like a striking silver-ish white color. Also only she can turn other humans into her type of vampire but if a vampire is already turned they cannot convert to her lifestyle like a human-blood drinking vampire can do to become an animal-blood drinking vampire.)☆ @ms-taolin-zero
Requests are open, but for anything I write for but Riverdale, I’m not feeling much inspo for that right now! <3 Have a nice day/night
The Cullens x Fem!Vampire!Reader
Word count: 3031
Warnings: Nothing I think?
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!
If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!
Masterlist
If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee!
(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
I knew the Volturi were hunting something before I knew what it was. Rumors traveled strangly among vampires. Not through phones or letters or anything human like that. Information passed through whispered conversations in abandoned cathedrals, half-finished sentences in crowded cities, the scent trails left behind by nomads crossing territories. And for the first time in over a century, the rumors weren’t about me.
At first, all I heard was impossible. An immortal child. The Cullens had created an immortal child. Then came the corrections, not immortal, hybrid. Half-human, half-vampire. A child growing instead of frozen. A child with a heartbeat. A child the Volturi intended to destroy before the truth could spread.
I should’ve ignored it, that was the smart thing to do. I’d survived this long by staying out of vampire politics. I avoiced covens, avoided attention, and avoided anywhere Aro might hear whispers of silver eyes and strange venom. But then I heard something else. The Cullens were gathering witnesses, not fighters. Witnesses. And for some reason that mattered to me, because people who gathered witnesses before war usually still believed truth meant something. So I ran to Forks.
By the time I reached the Olympic forests, snow covered everything in thick silver layers. The cold didn’t bother me; nothing really did anymore. But the closer I got to Cullen territory, the more uneasy I became. I could smell them from miles away. Not just the Cullens, but dozens of vampires. Ancient ones, powerful ones, different diets, different covens. The air practically vibrated with tension and venom. I almost turned around twice. Not because I was afraid of fighting. I was afraid of what would happen when vampires smelled me, because they always reacted the same way. Confusion first, then fear, then disgust, sometimes curiosity, occasionally violence. Never comfort. Never safety.
The Cullen house appeared through the trees just after dusk, glowing gold against endless snow. Voices drifted faintly through the forest while vampire scents layered so thickly through the air it almost burned. Too many. Far too many. I stopped at the edge of the clearing silently. Instantly, every vampire froze. God… Vampires were dramatic.
Dozens of crimson and gold eyes snapped toward me at once. The reaction came immediately. The Amazons crouched low. Several nomads hissed. One massive vampire with dark curls, Emmett Cullen, I remembered, stepped stubly in front of the blonde woman beside him. Protective instinct. Interesting. Then the wind shifted, and they caught my scent properly. The entire clearing erupted into chaos.
“What is that?”
“That smell…”
“She reeks of venom.”
“No…”
The blond woman, Rosalie, went rigid instantly. Bella Cullen moved instinctively in front of the small child standing beside her. The child…. Renesmee. Her scent hit me fully then. Human warmth wrapped in vampire sweetness. Heartbeat beneath immortality. Impossible. Beautiful. And terrifyingly fragile. I understood immediately why the Volturi feared her. A bronze-haired vampire stepped forward, eyes narrowed carefully. Edward Cullen. Mind reader, wonderful. His expression shifted strangely. Confused and frustrated.
“I can’t hear her properly.” He murmured quietly. That earned me several more wary looks. I sighed softly.
“Fantastic. We’re already off to a weird start.”
A few vampires blinked; apparently, they expected something more threatening. Carlisle Cullen stepped forward, and immediately, everything changed. I’d heard stories about Carlisle for decades. The compassionate doctor, the vegetarian coven leader, the vampire who collected broken people instead of power. I never believed half of it, then he looked at me. Not my eyes, not my scent, me.
“Welcome.” He said gently.
I actually forgot how to speak for a second, because nobody had greeted me like that in over a century.
“I’m Carlisle Cullen.”
“I know.” My voice came out rougher than intended. Too much running. Too many years alone. Carlisle studied me carefully, not frightened, but curious, compassionate. God, that was worse somehow.
Rosalie crossed her arms tightly. “You still haven’t explained why you smell like that.”
Straight to the point, I appreciated that. I shoved my hands into my coat pockets.
“Because I drink vampire blood.”
Silence.
Then absolute chaos.
“That’s impossible.”
“No vampire can survive on vampire blood.”
“A cannibal?”
The giant one, Emmett, actually looked fascinated.
“Metal as hell though.”
“Emmett.” Rosalie snapped. He shrugged unapologetically. Carlisle remained calm somehow.
“You came here willingly?” He asked softly.
I nodded once.
“I heard you were gathering witnesses.”
Bella’s red eyes narrowed slightly.
“You came to help us?”
“I came because the Volturi kill things they don’t understand.”
Edward’s expression sharpened instantly because I hadn’t said people. Things. And I knew exactly what that felt like. Carlisle glanced briefly toward Renesmee before looking back at me.
“You’re welcome here.”
Several vampires looked horrified by that decision.
The questions started almost immediately. By midnight, I sat near the Cullen house, surrounded by curious immortals while snow drifted lazily through the trees. Some kept their distance, others practically leaned into my space. Apparently, being a vampire cannibal made me tonight’s entertainment. Wonderful. Garrett stared openly, Kate looked delighted, Benjamin seemed scientifically fascinated, the Romanians looked like they were deciding whether to recruit or kill me, and honestly? Could’ve gone either way. Vladimir spoke first.
“You consume our kind.”
I looked over at him. “Yes.”
“And only our kind?”
“No.”
“Well, how?” There it was, the real question.
I leaned back against the porch railing slightly. “My venom is different.”
Kate tilted her head curiously. “Different how?”
I hesitated. I hated explaining this part. Not because it scared me anymore, but because it changed how people looked at me. Always. Still, they deserved honesty.
“When I was human, there was witch blood in my family.” I said quietly.
Bella blinked immediately. “Witches are real?”
I laughed softly. “Oh sweetheart, your married to a vampire. Raise your standards for disbelief.”
Emmett barked out a laugh. Even Rosalie smirked faintly. Carlisle leaned forward slightly.
“Your transformation altered because of it?”
“I think the venom reacted to it somehow.” I stared absently into the snowy trees.
“Normal venom hardens the body, makes vampires nearly indestructible.” My silver eyes lifted toward them again.
“Mike dissolves us.”
Uneasy silence fell over the group.
Benjamin frowned slightly. “Dissolves?”
“If I bite another vampire, my venom liquifies the crystalline structure inside them.” My voice stayed clam from long practice.
“Turns it into something closer to blood.”
Bella visibly shivered.
Rosalie’s expression tightened.
Garrett looked horrified and fascinated simultaneously.
“And then you drink it.” Edward said quietly.
“Yes.”
The silence after that stretched heavily, because they understood now. Not just what I was, but what I represented. A predator to predators. Carlisle studied me carefully.
“And humans?” There was the more important concern. I glanced toward Renesmee instinctively.
“You’re worried I could turn someone.”
Carlisle didn’t deny it. “Yes.”
“If I turn a human, they become what I am.” I said quietly.
Shock rippled outward immediately.
“What?” Bella whispered.
“Your venom rewrites the transformation?” Eleazar asked sharply.
I nodded once.
“But only humans, existing vampires can’t convert.” I shrugged slightly. “I tried once.”
Edward’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Tried?”
I looked away immediately. Bad subject…
“Not willingly.”
That shut everyone up fast. Thank God.
The strange part about staying with the Cullens wasn’t the fear. It was the kindness. Esme made space for me in the house without hesitation. Emmett asked increasingly concerning questions.
“So if you bite me,” He asked one afternoon while lounging upside down on the Cullen living room couch. “would I melt from the inside out or outside in?”
Rosalie smacked him immediately.
“What?”
“No.” I answered dryly. “You’d sparkle into soup.”
Emmett burst out laughing. Rosalie groaned.
“Please stop encouraging him.”
Too late, way too late.
Bella found me outside most nights. I think she understood loneliness better than the others. Or maybe she jsut understood being transformed into something strange. One evening, we stood together outside while snow fell softly through the dark forest around us.
“You leave the house whenever everyone hunts.” Bella observed quietly.
I shrugged.
“Old instinct.”
“You’re afraid.”
I glanced toward her.
“Not for me.”
Understanding crossed her face immediately.
“You think you’ll lose control around us.”
“Yes.” The honesty surprised her slightly. I sighed softly.
“You all smell like prey sometimes.” My silver eyes drifted toward the glowing house.
“Especially newborns.”
Bella looked down briefly.
“Does it ever stop?” The question caught me off guard.
“What?”
“The hunger?”
I thought about that honestly. About silver blood, about thirst, about the instinctive craving I felt whenever vampire venom scented the air.
“No.” I admitted quietly. “You just learned how to live with wanting something.”
Bella looked at me carefully then. “You’re lonely.”
I laughed softly. “That obvious?”
“A little.”
She hesitated before speaking again.
“You know… you don’t have to stay outside all the time.”
God, that almost hurt. Because she meant it, and I genuinely didn’t know what to do with kindness anymore.
More covens arrived over the next few days, and each reacted to me differently. The Irish coven looked unsettled but polite. The Amazons accepted me almost immediately after I insulted the Volturi creatively enough.
“You compare Caius to spoiled mayonnaise.” Senna said thoughtfully.
“He deserves worse.”
Zafrina laughed so hard she nearly fell over. Kate became obsessed with my eyes.
“They’re beautiful.” She informed me bluntly one afternoon. I blinked at her. Nobody had ever called my eyes beautiful before. They were usually called disturbing or unnatural.
“They’re silver because of your diet?” She asked.
I nodded once.
“Vampire blood looks different than human blood.” My fingers traced absently along a forest branch nearby.
“It’s brighter. Metallic almost.”
Bella frowned slightly. “Silver?”
I nodded. “It shines.”
The entire group looked disturbed.
“It sounds pretty.” Renesmee said suddenly.
Everyone froze. I looked down, the little hybrid stood near Bella, holding Jacob’s hand while staring directly at my eyes. No fear, no disgust, just curiosity. Children really were terrifyingly honest.
“You think so?” I asked quietly.
She nodded immediately. “They look like snow.”
Something painfully soft twisted in my chest because children weren’t supposed to look at monsters like that.
The night before the Volturi arrived, massive bonfires burned through the snowy clearing while covens gathered together, sharing stories. Ancient stories. War stories. Love stories. Immortals collected memories the way humans collected scars. I stayed near the edge of the firelight, listening while Vladimir dramatically recounted the Volturi's overthrow of the Romanian coven.
“Cowards.” Stefan muttered darkly.
“Terrible fashion sense too.” I added.
Several vampires laughed. Even Carlisle smiled slightly. The tension eased briefly after that. Then Tanya looked toward me thoughtfully.
“We’ve all shared our histories tonight.”
Ah. The tragic backstory request. I sighed heavily.
“You people are unbelievable nosy.”
Kate grinned immediately. “Correct.”
The fire crackled softly beneath falling snow while dozens of vampires looked toward me expectantly. I should’ve refused. Instead, I stared into the flames.
“I was twenty-two when I died.” Silence settled almost instantly.
“My family lived near Salem originally.” I continued quietly. “Which honestly should’ve been warning enough.”
A few covens exchanged confused looks.
“My grandmother practiced witchcraft.” I shrugged slightly. “Real witchcraft. Protection spells mostly, healing.”
Carlisle leaned forward slightly, fascinated.
“She believed your bloodline carried something unusual?”
“Yes.”
The fire reflected silver in my eyes while old memories crawled up from places I usually buried them.
“Then a vampire found me.”
Rosalie’s expression darkened immediately. She knew already. Women like us always recognized certain stories.
“He killed my family first.”
The clearing went completely still.
“He wanted me afraid before he turned me.”
Bella’s face tightened painfully. I stared into the flames instead of at them.
“I remembered the venom burning.” My voice sounded detached somehow.
“I remember screaming.” A pause.
“Then I remember walking up.”
Everyone listened silently.
“My creator expected a newborn.” A faint smile crossed my face.
“He got me instead.”
Unease spread through the clearing instantly because they could hear it already, the violence waiting in the story.
“He tried to restrain me after I woke.” My hands clenched slightly. “I bit him.”
God… I still remember his face. The confusion, then terror.
“At first I thought something had gone wrong.” My throat tightened slightly.
“His skin started melting.”
Bella visibly flinched. Even some ancient covens looked unsettled now.
“He screamed.” I still hear that sound sometimes. Silver blood across my hands. Moonlight reflecting through it. Bright. Metallic. Beautiful. Horrifying.
“Nobody had ever heard a vampire scream like that before.” I whispered. “Silver blood poured out of him while his body dissolved.”
The fire cracked softly.
“I drank because I was thirsty.” I admitted quietly. “And because I didn’t understnad what I was doing.”
No one interrupted.
“When it was over…” I said softly. “...there was almost nothing left.”
Snow drifted slightly around the clearing.
“Were you alone afterward?” Esme asked gently.
That question almost broke me because there was no fear in her voice, only sadness.
“Yes.”
Esme looked devastated by that answer. Carlisle did too because he understood exactly what that meant. A newborn completely alone. No guidance. No family. No understanding of what she’d become. Just hunger, horror, and isolation.
“How long before the Volturi found out?” Edward asked quietly.
I laughed bitterly.
“They smelled what was left of him.”
That answered enough.
Aro had become obsessed almost immediately afterward. A predator hunting another predator. Except I’d been young then. Terrified. Alone.
“Did they chase you long?” Bella asked softly.
I looked up at the snowy forest surrounding us.
“For decades.” My voice softened. “Aro wanted to know if I could be recreated.”
Several vampires visibly recoiled. Good. They should be.
“I spent over a century running after that.”
Carlisle looked at me carefully.
“That’s why you’re alone.”
Not judgment, but understanding. I met his gaze across the fire.
“I’m dangerous.”
“No, you’re isolated.” Carlisle said gently.
That almost hurt more than the memories because nobody had ever separated those two things before. And maybe I didn’t know how to anymore either.
Morning arrived white and sharp with snow. The field stretched endlessly beneath a pale sky while every witness gathered silently near the tree line. The Volturi were coming. I could tell them already, ancient venom, old blood. Power. Fear. Interesting. Very interesting. The Cullens stood together at the center of the clearing. Bella beside Edward, Renesmee protected carefully between them with Jacob in his wolf form nearby. Every coven tense, waiting. I stayed slightly apart from everyone automatically, not excluded, just careful.
Suddenly, the Volturi emerged from the snow like shadows. Black cloaks against endless white. Aro at the center, Caius beside him, already looking murderous, Marcus looking bored, Jane and Alec silent nearby. Hundreds of guards follow behind them. The field went completely still, then Aro saw me… and everything stopped. He froze so abruptly several guards nearly collided into him. Shocked flashed openly across his ancient face. Caius frowned immediately. Marcus’ eyes also widened. Then the wind shifted. The Volturi caught my scent. Several guards recoiled outright. Jane’s crimson eyes widened. Alec went perfectly still. And Caius, Caius looked terrified. That was satisfying.
“Impossible.” Aro whispered.
I crossed my arms loosely.
“Hello, Aro.”
Edward tensed beside Bella immediately because Aro looked fascinated. Obsessed. The same way collectors looked at priceless things.
“Oh, you survived.” Aro breathed softly.
I smiled coldly. “Disappointed for you, I know.”
Caius recognized me fully then. Hatred twisted across his face immediately.
“No.” He snarled. “Absolutely not.”
Bella looked confused beside Edward. Aro slowly stepped closer.
“You disappeared beautifully.” He murmured.
“I learned quickly.”
The entire field had gone silent now. Everyone watching. Everyone confused. Aro stared at me like I was buried treasure finally uncovered after centuries. I hated that look.
“My dear Carlisle,” Aro said softly without taking his eyes off me. “do you understand what she is?”
Carlisle answered immediately. “She’s a person.”
Something strange flickered across Aro’s face. Amusement maybe.
“Oh, and so very much more.” He said softly. He extended one pale hand toward me slowly.
“May I?”
Edward moved instantly. Protective. Suspicious. I raised one hand slightly without looking back.
“It’s alright.”
Carefully, I stepped forward and touched Aro’s hand. The reaction was immediate. Aro gasped sharply. His crimson eyes widened as my memories flooded through him. My transformation. Silver blood. Screaming. Volturi guards hunting me across continents. Humans experimented on trying to recreate me. Loneliness. Fear. Survival. When contact finally broke, Aro looked shaken. Actually shaken.
“My God…” He whispered.
Caius looked furious now. “What did you see?”
Aro stared at me like I was the answer to a question he’d chased for centuries.
“Evolution.”
The word settled across the snowy field like thunder. Every witness stiffened. Carlisle’s expression darkened slightly. Aro smiled slowly.
“She is the rarest creature our world has ever produced.”
I looked deeply unimpressed. “Flattery from you usually precedes violence.”
Aro laughed softly.
“Still sharp.”
Caius stepped forward abruptly.
“She should be destroyed.”
Instantly, every vampire and wolf tensed. The Cullens moved protectively. Witnesses shifted. Even Volturi guards looked uneasy. I stayed perfectly still. Aro, however, looked offended.
“No.”
Caius stared at him. “No?”
“My dear Caius, she is extraordinary.” Aro murmured.
Extraordinary. Right. That was one word for it. Aro looked at me again with dangerous fascination.
“You could join us.”
And there it was, the obsession. The same obsession that had chased me across continents for over a century. I brust out laughing. Sharp and incredulous across the frozen field.
“Oh, absolutely not.” I said breathlessly.
Aro still smiled.
“You refuse quickly.”
“You hunted me for a hundred years.”
“Because you fascinated me.”
“You dissected humans trying to recreate me.”
The field went dead silent again. Bella looked horrified. Aro tilted his head slightly.
“Yes, unsuccessfully.” He admitted calmly.
I stared at him coldly. “You smell afraid.”
That hit immediately. The Volturi guards visibly reacted because, beneath all the ceremony and power and ancient control, they feared me. A predator built specifically for predators. A vampire who drank immortals themselves. Even Caius took hald a step back unconsciously, and Aro noticed. His smile widened slowly. Not fearful, delighted. Because for the first time in centuries, the Volturi had finally encountered something stronger than them.
☆Hi again! Could you do a oneshot for the cullens x vampire!fem!reader but the reader is like a vampire cannibal because when she was turned she had witch blood in her veins and she ended up draining the person who turned her because she developed special vemon to liquidify a vampires hard insides into a silver blood like state. Anyways she runs to the cullens when she hears that they are gathering witnesses to defend the existence of Bella Cullens' daughter and [reader] ends up talking to some of the different covens there and they ask her questions about her lifestyle as a different kind of vampire, then when they are around the campfire the night before the battle telling stories; [reader] tells them how she was turned. Also could you add the volturi finding out about her existence when the cullens' + their witnesses and the volturi meet in the snowy field too.☆
☆(Also side note: since she drinks vampire blood and I kinda imagine it's silvery and shiny (like their skin is in the sun) her eyes are like a striking silver-ish white color. Also only she can turn other humans into her type of vampire but if a vampire is already turned they cannot convert to her lifestyle like a human-blood drinking vampire can do to become an animal-blood drinking vampire.)☆
Request: Yes / No Hiiiii I was wondering if you could do an undercover thing with Aaron Hotchner I’m obsessed with recently Anon
Requests are open, but for anything I write for but Riverdale, I’m not feeling much inspo for that right now! <3 Have a nice day/night
Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Non-Binary!Parkinson!Male!Reader
Word count: 2754
Warnings: Mentions of blood, Reader being hurt, I think that’s it
Y/N: Your Name
Y/L/N: Your Last Name
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!
If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!
Masterlist
If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee!
(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
*Aaron’s POV*
I hated undercover work. It wasn’t because I couldn’t do it, I could, too well, actually. I could slip into roles with the same controlled precision I used everywhere else in my life. Calm voice, measured posture, unreadable face, I understood how to disappear into a character and make people trust me. But I hated the lack of control. Hated relying on variables. Hated not having immediate backup. And most of all, I hated undercover work when Y/N was involved. Which was unfortunate, considering Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N was one of the best undercover operatives the FBI had ever produced.
“She’s our best chance at getting close to him.” Strauss said from the front of the conference room.
My jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Around the table, the BAu exchanged looks while Y/N leaned back in her chair, looking annoyingly calm. The case file spread across the table showed photos of bruised women, warehouse exteriors, crime scene shorts, and surveillance stills. Three women dead. Two missing. All connected to an underground trafficking ring operating across Virginia and Maryland. The unsub, Elias Vance, targeted vulnerable women through fake modeling and hostess opportunities before auctioning them through private parties attended by wealthy clients. We finally got a break when Y/N’s unit traced one of Vance’s recruiters, which had led directly here.
“To get into the parties, we need a believable buyer profile and someone Vance would view as valuable inventory.” Strauss continued.
Reid grimaced slightly. Morgan muttered a curse under his breath. I already knew where this conversation was going.
“I can get in as the buyer.” I said immediately.
Y/N’s eyes flicked toward me briefly.
“And me?” She asked knowingly.
Strauss nodded.
“You’ll pose as his wife.”
I felt every muscle in my body tense because this was it, the exact reason I hated this. Not the danger to myself, but for her. Always her. Y/N specialized in deep undercover work because she was terrifyingly good at adapting. She could become anyone. Slip into personalities so convincingly that it unsettled people who knew her. But that also meant she usually got close to monsters. Too close.
“She shouldn’t go in alone.” I said flatly.
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I appreciate the caveman routine, Aaron, but I do know how to do my job.”
Emily immediately looked between us.
“Oh, this is personal personal.
Morgan leaned back slowly. “Wait a minute…”
Garcia’s mouth dropped open. “You two are dating!?”
Y/N sighed dramatically. “Wonderful… Great timing.”
Reid blinked rapidly at me. “Statistically speaking, I should’ve noticed that sooner.”
“Well cats outta the bag.” Dave said with a smirk.
I ignored all of them, eyes fixed on Strauss instead.
“She goes in with backup.”
“I already said you’re the backup.’ Strauss replied calmly.
Y/N crossed one leg over the other, infuriatingly composed. “We’ve done couples covers before.”
“Yes.” I said tightly. “With agents trained specifically for undercover support.”
“And you think I can’t handle it?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you implied.”
The tension between us sharpened instantly. The room had gone awkwardly quiet because everyone could tell this wasn’t really about professionalism anymore. This was fear. I finally exhaled slowly through my nose.
“What’s the cover?”
Strauss slid a folder toward us.
“Johnathan and Elise Mercer. Wealthy East Coast investors. Married six years.”
Y/N opened the file, then smirked faintly.
“Oh, this is fun.”
I stared at her.
“How is any of this fun?”
She looked up innocently. “Fake marriage? Fancy clothes? Crime rings? It’s like a very stressful date night.”
Morgan barked a laugh.
I did not look amused. Y/N’s expression softened slightly as she noticed.
“Aaron.”
No response.
“Aaron.”
Finally, I looked at her. Her voice gentled just slightly.
“I know what I’m doing.”
And logically? I knew that too. Y/N had spent years undercover. She survived operations most agents never would’ve walked away from. But loving someone changed the math of fear. Because now every risk felt personal.
Three nights later, I stood in front of a hotel mirror adjusting cufflinks while Y/N applied lipstick behind me. The suit was expensive enough to fit our cover story perfectly. Soft jazz drifted through hidden speakers while city lights glowed outside massive windows. Y/N looked devastating, which was part of the problem. The black dress she wore was elegant enough to blend into wealthy circles while still designed to attract attention. Her hair fell in soft waves over bare shoulders, and every movement radiated confidence. She looked like someone born for high society manipulation. I hated how well she fit into this world.
“You’re staring.” Y/N observed casually.
“You look like bait.”
“That’s because I am bait.”
My jaw tightened. Y/N met my eyes in the mirror and sighed softly.
“You glower more when you’re worried.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Right.”
She walked toward me then, heels clicking softly against hardwood floors.
“Aaron.”
Her hands smoothed lightly over the front of my suit jacket.
“You know what your biggest undercover problem is?”
I looked down at her.
“What?”
“You care too much.”
“I’d argue that’s not a flaw.”
“It is in undercover work.”
Her fingers adjusted my tie gently.
“You hesitated when emotions get involved.”
“And you don’t?”
Y/N smiled faintly.
“No, I compartmentalize.”
That answer bothered me more than it should have. Before I could respond, her expression shifted back into mission mode.
“Okay.” She said professionally. “Once we’re inside, stay close but not protective. Jonathan Mercer is rich, arrogant, and used to control. Elise is decorative but intelligent enough to be useful.”
I nodded slightly.
“You’ll handle most conversation initially.” She continued. “Vance likes women, but he respects money more.”
“And if he separates us?”
Y/N’s eyes darkened slightly.
“Then you trust me to handle myself.”
Easier said than done. A comms tech’s voice crackled quietly through the hidden earpiece.
“Vehicles are in position.”
Y/N stepped back slightly, and just like that, she transformed. The softness vanished from her face entirely. Her posture shifted, her smile became sharper, colder, polished into something wealthy and untouchable. Elise Mercer. I watched it happen in real time and understood again why Y/N was so good at this. It was almost frightening.
She glanced up at me expectantly. “You coming, darling?”
Even her voice had changed. I forced myself into character too. One hand settled against the small of her back naturally as we headed for the door.
“After you.”
The party took place inside a sprawling private estate nearly an hour outside Quantico. Luxury cars lined the circular driveway while wealthy guests drifted through the mansion laughing softly over champagne. At first glance, it looked normal. Elegant. Refined. But I could see the cracks immediately. Too much security. Too many locked doors. Women moving carefully through the crowd with trained smiles and empty eyes. Predators hiding behind expensive suits. Y/N leaned subtly against me as we entered.
“Vance is near the bar.” She murmured quietly enough that only I could hear. I spooted him instantly. Mid-forties. Expensive watch. Predatory smile. Eyes that lingered too long on women. Vance noticed us approaching and smiled broadly.
“Jonathan Mercer.” He greeted warmly, extending a hand. “Glad you could make it.”
I shook it firmly.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Vance’s attention shifted immediately to Y/N. And stayed there. I felt something ugly twist sharply in my chest.
“Elise.” Vance said smoothly.
Y/N smiled perfectly.
“Elias.” The way she said it sounded flirtatious enough to sell the coer while still controlled. Professional. But I still hated it. Vance gestured toward the ballroom.
“Enjoy yourselves. We’ll discuss business later.”
Y/N’s hand slid naturally around my arm as we walked away.
“Relax your shoulders.” She murmured.
“I’m relaxed.”
“You look like you want to kill him.”
“Maybe I do.”
Y/N hid a smile behind her champagne glass.
“That’s actually kind of sweet.”
Hours passed slowly. Too slowly. I stayed hyperaware of everything around us while Y/N moved effortlessly through conversations, collecting information without appearing obvious. She danced with me once to maintain appearances, and for one brief, dangerous moment, it almost felt real. The ballroom glowed gold beneath chandeliers while soft music drifted through the room. Y/N’s body moved perfectly against mine, close enough that I could smell her perfume. Close enough that her voice brushed warm against my ear.
“You’re overthinking again.”
“This entire operation is overthinking.”
“Aaron.” Her hand squeezed my shoulder lightly.
“I’m okay.”
I looked down at her.
“You always say that.”
“Because I usually am.”
The song ended too quickly, then everything went wrong. It happened during a private conversation with Vance near the balcony. Y/N had been steering him carefully toward discussing shipment locations while I played the role of detached husband. And I made one mistake. One tiny mistake…
Vance casually mentioned a previous trafficking investigation in Chicago, and without thinking, I responded too quickly. Too professionally. Just one phrase. One detail only law enforcement would’ve focused on. But it was enough. Y/N noticed immediately. Her eyes flicked sharply toward me. Warning. Too late. Vance’s smile changed instantly. Not visibly to most people, but enough. Predatory suspicion sharpened in his face. I felt cold realization settle heavily in my stomach. Damn it…
Vance leaned back slowly. “You know,” He said conversationally. “you two are very interesting.”
Y/N laughed softly, perfectly in character. “That’s usually considered a compliment.”
“I don’t think you’re who you say you are.”
The room suddenly felt much smaller. My hand twitched slightly toward the concealed weapon at my back. Three armed guards appeared almost immediately. Fast. Organized. Y/N’s voice stayed clam.
“If you’re going to accuse us of something, Elias, at least be entertaining about it.”
Vance smiled, then punched me hard across the face. Chaos exploded instantly. I lunged forward automatically, but multiple guards grabbed me before I could reach Vance. Y/N fought too. Violently. A guard grabbed her arm, and she slammed an elbow into his throat hard enough to drop him. Another caught her from behind.
“Enough.” Vance snapped coldly.
A gun pressed against Y/N’s ribs immediately. I froze, and Vance smiled because he noticed.
“There it is.” He said softly. “That’s real.”
Fear.
My fear for her had exposed us completely. Y/N looked at me briefly. Not angry. Worse… Understanding.
“Bind them.” Vance ordered.
The warehouse smelled like blood and rust. I sat tied to a metal chair, wrists burning against restraints while bruises darkened across my face. Twenty feet away, Y/N was restrained the same way, only she looked worse. Much worse. Blood streaked from a split lip, one eye swollen slightly, her breathing uneven, and every injury was my fault. Vance paced slowly between us.
“You know, I almost believed your cover.” He mused casually.
Y/N spat blood at his shoes.
“Then you’re dumber than you look.”
One of the guards hit her hard across the face instantly. I surged violently against the restraints.
“Don’t touch her!”
Vance smiled.
“There’s the problem.” He crouched in front of me calmly. “You love her too much for undercover work.”
My jaw clenched painfully. Across the room, Y/N lifted her head slightly despite ovvious pain.
“Aaron.” She said quietly. A warning. Don’t react. Too late for that. Vance stood again.
“I was military intelligence once.” He explained conversationally. “People always think undercover work is about lies.” He glanced toward Y/N. “It isn’t. It’s about emotional control.”
His gaze shifted back to me.
“And you lost yours.”
The guilt hit like a physical blow, because he was right. Y/N caught my eyes again and shook her head almost imperceptibly. Don’t. Don’t blame yourself right now. But how could I not? A guard suddenly grabbed Y/N’s hair harshly, yanking her head back. I saw red instantly.
“STOP!”
Vance ignored me completly.
“You,” He said to Y/N. “are very good.”
Y/N smiled weakly despite everything. “I know.”
Another hit landed across her ribs hard enough to make her gasp sharply. I nearly broke the chair struggling against restraints.
“Enough!” I roared.
Vance crouched beside Y/N now.
“And you trained him badly.”
Y/N laughed faintly through blood.
“That one’s on me.”
God…
Even now she was trying to protect me emotionally. I felt sick. Minutes blurred together horribly after that. Questions. Threats. Violence. Mostly directed at Y/N because Vance had correctly identified her as the more experienced operative. And I had to sit there helplessly watching it happen. Every instinct screamed to protect her. Every second I couldn’t felt unbearable. At one point, Y/N couched hard enough that blood stained the floor beneath her chair. My entire body went cold.
“Y/N.”
She lifted her head slowly, still conscious. Barely.
“I’m okay.” She whispered hoarsely.
The lie nearly destroyed me.
Vance laughed softly nearby. “She says that a lot, doesn’t she?”
I glared murderously at him. “You’re dead.”
“Probably.” Vance admitted calmly. “But not before you watch her suffer for your mistake.”
The words hit exactly where intended, because they were true. I had compromised the operation. I had gotten them caught… And Y/N was paying for it.
Hours seemed to pass, maybe less, maybe more. I lost track completely after the third time Y/N nearly blacked out. Then suddenly, gunshots echoed outside the warehouse. Everyone froze. Vance cursed sharply. More gunfire erupted immediately after. FBI. Relief hit so hard it almost hurt. Chaos exploded around us as shouting filled the warehouse. The doors burst open.
“FBI!”
Morgan.
Emily.
SWAT flooded the building fast and brutal.
Guards dropped rapidly under tactical fire while agents cleared rooms with practiced precision. Vance reached for Y/N instinctively, using her as leverage. Bit mistake. I slammed my chair sideways hard enough to knock one guard off balance, creating just enough distraction. A sniper shot rang out. Vance dropped instantly. Then suddenly Emily was beside me, cutting restraints, while Morgan rushed toward Y/N. The second I was free, I was moving. Straight to her. Y/N barely looked conscious now. Her head hung forward slightly while blood streaked down her temple and across her neck.
“Y/N.” My voice broke. God…
Her eyes fluttered open weakly at the sound. “Aaron?”
I dropped to my knees in front of her while Morgan cut the restraints.
“I’m here.”
The moment she was free, Y/N nearly collapsed forward. I caught her immediately, carefully. Terrified of hurting her worse.
“I’m sorry.” I said instantly, voice rough with panic and guilt.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry.”
Her breathing hitched painfully.
“Aaron-”
“This is my fault.”
“No.”
“Yes.” I choked out. “I compromised the cover. I got you hurt.”
Y/N somehow managed a weak crooked smile despite blood on her teeth. Then, very softly,
“You’re still a rookie at undercover.” She whispered. “Don’t worry.”
I laughed one helplessly. Half broken, half relieved, because even barely conscious and covered in bruises, she was still trying to make me feel better. Paramedics rushed in around us. Someone said her name. Someone mentioned internal bleeding. I barely heard any of it. All I could focus on was keeping her awake.
“Stay were me.” I murmured urgently, brushing blood-matted hair back from her face.
“Y/N, look at me.”
Her eyes struggled to focus.
“Tired…”
“I know.”
“Hurts…”
That nearly killed me, because Y/N rarely admitted pain out loud. I pressed my forehead briefly against hers.
“I’ve got you.”
Her hand weakly found my wrist.
“You okay?”
The question stunned me speechless for half a second. She was barely holding consciousness together and still worried about me.
“I’m fine.” He whispered.
She gave me the faintest look, clearly not believing that. Then her eyes slipped shut again.
“Y/N.” Panic surged immediately.
A medic knelt beside them quickly. “Sir, we need to move her now.”
I nodded numbly but didn’t let go until they physically had to separate us. And even then, I stayed beside the stretcher the entire way to the ambulance, blood staining my suit while guilt hollowed me out from the inside. Because all I could see every time I closed my eyes was Y/N tied to that chair because of me. And all I could hear was her teasing voice afterward anyway. You’re still a rookie at undercover. Don’t worry. God… I loved her so much it hurt.
Can you please do a Draco x fem reader who is a ravenclaw and how they keep their relationship a secret?? Make the reader bsf Luna being suspicious on how often reader sneaks out of the ravenclaw tower at night
Posted this just now!
Multi-Fanfic Writer! @fanfics4all - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
