bunnynoirr

[bunnynoirr]

Twilight x black reader part 3

𝐍𖣠𝐓𝐄 ☦︎📓 ݈݇⎼: exams are over and summers just begun so I’ll be posting faster… yayyy *I say with bags under my eyes🥲*

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔⚠︎: none that I feel like putting.

Part 2💜 <-

The night stretched on at Angel’s house, soft and chaotic all at once. The living room lights still hummed overhead, casting a yellow glow that softened the edges of the four girls scattered across pillows and blankets.

Sophia was rifling through Angel’s massive stash of DVDs like she was preparing for war. Y/N sat cross-legged beside Mia, watching in quiet amusement as the “movie selection process” slowly devolved into chaos.

“Absolutely not,” Angel said, wrinkling her nose as Sophia held up a dusty rom-com.

Sophia scoffed. “Okay, what about this one?” She flashed the cover of a horror film so grisly it looked banned in several countries.

“Nope,” Mia shot back immediately, clutching the popcorn like a shield. “I like sleeping, thanks.”

Every movie Sophia presented earned a scrunched nose, a groan, or an exaggerated gag. Y/N just smiled softly, content to watch the push and pull between her new friends.

Eventually, even Sophia grew bored of the back-and-forth and flopped down dramatically onto the couch. Angel took the opportunity to redirect.

“Ugh, can we talk about Matt real quick? I hate that man with my whole heart.”

Sophia rolled her eyes like she’d heard this monologue too many times. Mia, already mid-popcorn bite, nodded along in solidarity.

“I don’t know why you ever gave him the time of day,” Sophia muttered, flipping over a DVD case lazily.

Y/N looked up, brows raised. “Wait… you and Matt?”

Mia swallowed and grinned wickedly. “Oh, it’s complicated. More like… entanglement vibes.”

“Stop saying that!” Angel groaned, hugging a pillow. “It wasn’t an entanglement. We went on a real date and everything!”

“Yeah,” Sophia deadpanned. “And you let him talk his way into your panties that same night.”

Silence fell for a beat. Y/N blinked and Mia’s mouth hung open in shock before she burst into laughter.

Angel scowled, clearly offended. “You don’t have to be a bitch, Sophia.”

Sophia only shrugged, her tone flat but strangely sincere. “I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m being real. He didn’t deserve you, Angel. You’re too good for that loser.”

The sincerity stunned the room into silence. Mia was the first to break it.

“That’s… weirdly the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say in the decade I’ve known you.”

Sophia smirked but didn’t argue.

Angel sulked into her pillow, her voice muffled. “I just hate that he still gets to walk around like he’s hot shit. I wish I could make him hurt the way he’s hurt every girl he’s played, including me.”

Mia perked up mischievously. “Hex him.”

Angel’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous spark. “You know what? That actually sounds doable.”

Y/N and the others blinked, unsure if she was joking.

Without another word, Angel scrambled upstairs. She returned moments later with a ridiculous-looking purple textbook featuring a cartoon witch riding a broomstick. The words “A Witch’s Guide to Magic” glared back at them in bold, glittery font.

Y/N burst into quiet giggles. Mia laughed loudly. Even Sophia cracked a grin.

“You cannot be serious,” Sophia said, laughing breathlessly.

Angel glared, clearly not amused. “You laugh, but this book is legit! My grandma used to use it for spells when she was my age.”

“Your grandma was a Pinterest witch,” Sophia shot back.

Still, curiosity won out. Sophia flipped the book open and a yellowed slip of paper fluttered out, landing softly on the blanket.

Sophia picked it up first. Her face tightened. “What the hell… I can’t even read this.”

She handed it to Mia. Same thing. The letters danced and shimmered, shifting whenever they tried to focus. It was like staring through murky water.

Angel snatched it, but her attempt ended the same, headache and confusion.

“This is giving me a migraine,” Angel muttered, rubbing her temples. “What is this even supposed to be?”

Y/N hesitated, then reached for it. The moment her fingers brushed the paper, everything stilled.

The letters sharpened instantly. The words practically glowed in her mind, whispering themselves like an incantation. Her lips moved without thought.

“May his heart hollow the moment hers broke.

May love turn foreign on his tongue…

May every mirror reflect the absence he planted…”

Her voice wove through the room like smoke, each syllable tightening the air. When she finished, silence strangled them.

No one spoke.

No one could.

Sophia’s face paled. Mia clutched Angel’s arm, wide-eyed.

Y/N looked up, and froze.

Behind Sophia, standing in the darkest corner of the room, was a woman. Eyes sewn shut. Mouth pulled into a jagged, unnatural frown. She stared, or seemed to, with a hunger that made Y/N’s stomach twist.

Y/N shrieked and shot backwards, pointing frantically.

“Behind you!” she gasped, voice cracking. The other girls whipped around, but saw nothing.

“Y/N, what the fuck?!” Sophia barked, visibly spooked now.

Tears blurred Y/N’s vision. “I—I swear. There was a woman—right there—behind you…”

Angel and Mia were already clinging to each other, terrified.

“Okay, no. Nope. That’s enough weird shit for tonight,” Angel declared, grabbing the ridiculous witch book and tossing it across the room. “Forget that stupid paper. Forget all of this.”

Y/N looked down at her hands. The paper was gone. No trace. No evidence.

“Where did it go?” she whispered in disbelief.

Sophia looked unsettled now too. “You read it, Y/N. You had it.”

“Well it’s gone now,” Y/N said, voice shaking.

Angel shoved a random romcom into the DVD player and turned off the lights. “No more creepy shit. I don’t care if ghosts tap dance in here, we are watching 27 Dresses and going to sleep.”

Reluctantly, they agreed.

The night dragged on after that, thick with tension and unsaid fears. One by one, the girls drifted into uneasy sleep.

Y/N stayed awake the longest.

She couldn’t stop seeing that woman. Couldn’t stop hearing the words she’d spoken echo through the hollow spaces of the room.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

Y/N woke first. No dreams of drowning, but her body ached like she had.

Her mind wouldn’t settle. The events of last night tangled like vines in her chest.

She sat up quietly, careful not to disturb the other girls. They looked peaceful, or at least, as peaceful as you could be after reading a curse and summoning… something. She couldn’t stay.

She needed air. Needed space.

Y/N slipped on her shoes and jacket, scribbled a note on a scrap of paper, and tiptoed to the door.

“Went home early. See you Monday. xo”

She stepped into the gray morning, where the cold air kissed her burning cheeks and the trees whispered soft warnings only she could hear.

Then, she walked.

Not home. But toward whatever was waiting in the spaces between last night’s nightmare and tomorrow’s reckoning.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

The walk wasn’t peaceful.

Not even close.

Y/N’s sneakers scraped along the wet pavement, but her mind was too loud for the quiet around her to matter. The cold cut through her thin jacket, but it felt like background noise compared to the thick hum building beneath her skin.

The woman with the sewn-shut eyes.

The paper that disappeared.

The words that had slid from her tongue like they’d been waiting.

It was like her body had been hijacked by something older, something that existed in the cracks of forgotten languages and broken promises.

She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, grounding herself the way she always did when she dissociated. But even that felt distant now.

Her fingers twitched as she hugged her jacket tighter.

The path she walked wasn’t random. Not really. She didn’t know where she was going, but her feet did.

The lake.

She hadn’t intended to go there, but when she blinked next, she was already standing at its edge.

The surface was eerily still. Even the birds stayed silent.

Her reflection stared back at her like it knew something she didn’t. The girl in the water looked… softer. Sadder. But powerful in a way that sent chills skittering across her spine.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Y/N whispered aloud. Her voice didn’t even echo. It just disappeared into the gray morning.

But someone else heard it.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

Embry’s muscles tensed mid-step.

He had been patrolling with Jacob’s pack again, or at least pretending to. Their voices had long since faded into background static. He wasn’t paying attention to Leah complaining about the cold, or Quil joking about how boring the night run was.

All he could feel was her.

His imprint.

Her scent came first, faint but there. More potent now than it had been at the lake that day. Sharper. Like her heart had cracked open in her chest overnight and was her essence leaking into the earth.

It hit him like a brick wall.

He staggered, shifting back into human form with shaky hands and shallow breaths. His skin burned. His heart raced. He clutched at his ribs, the pull so intense he nearly hit his knees.

“She’s calling me…” he muttered aloud.

It wasn’t literal, but it may as well have been.

He needed to find her.

His mind screamed for it, claws scraping against the inside of his skull until his legs moved on their own.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

She felt it.

She didn’t see or hear him yet, but she felt him coming.

The back of her neck prickled. Her breath caught in her throat.

And when Embry emerged from the trees, shirtless, barefoot, like he’d sprinted through hell to get here. She took a step back without thinking.

He didn’t approach. Not yet. His chest heaved as if he had run for miles in seconds. His eyes glowed with something wild. Feral, but not threatening.

“Why do you keep showing up?” Y/N asked, voice tighter than she intended. “What do you want from me?”

Embry’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know how to explain this to you,” he said softly, voice rough and low. “I don’t even think you’d believe me if I did.”

Y/N’s arms crossed instinctively. “Try me.”

Embry’s lips parted, but the words didn’t come right away. He stepped forward slowly, careful, as though approaching a cornered animal.

“There’s something about you that’s… different. And I’m not saying that to be weird or scare you. I’m saying it because it’s true. I felt it the first time I saw you, and I feel it even stronger now.”

Y/N’s face scrunched in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

Embry hesitated. “I’m not human in the way you think.”

Y/N flinched slightly, but didn’t move.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” Embry said simply, like it wasn’t the most insane thing someone had ever confessed to her. “A wolf. It’s… in my blood. It’s part of my tribe. And when we meet the person who’s supposed to be ours, it’s instant. A bond. A pull.”

His eyes softened. “I imprinted on you, Y/N.”

She stared.

Silence stretched long and tight between them before Y/N finally barked out a laugh, small and bitter.

“I don’t even know you,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t even know me right now.”

“I know,” Embry said, voice full of honesty. “But it doesn’t care about that. It’s like something bigger made this decision for us.”

Her lips trembled slightly.

Embry took another step closer, close enough that she could see the cracks in his calm. He looked desperate, but not in a predatory way. More like his soul was starving for something it had never tasted before.

“I’m not going to force you,” he added, softer now. “I swear. You don’t have to do anything or be anything for me. But… I think you’re in danger. And I need you to trust me, even if it’s just enough to let me help you figure this shit out.”

Y/N looked down at her feet, her heartbeat too loud in her ears.

A part of her. The part that had whispered ancient words without thinking, the part that had seen a faceless woman stitched shut, knew he wasn’t lying.

Something bigger had started. And maybe, just maybe, she’d need him to survive it.

“…Okay,” she finally whispered. “You can help. But don’t expect me to just roll over and accept all this yet.”

Embry smiled faintly, like he’d just won the lottery.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said quietly.

As they stood there in fragile silence, Y/N glanced past him.

The vulture was back.

Perched high above in the branches, its eyes burned red against the gray sky, as though it, too, had been waiting for her answer.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

By the time Y/N reached her front porch, her mind felt like a cluttered drawer someone kept slamming shut.

The house was still and dark. Too still.

Thomas’s shoes were by the door. Jack’s keys were on the hook. Evelyn’s purse slumped lazily on the counter.

They’re home, she thought. But asleep.

The silence wrapped around her like a blanket and a noose all at once.

She moved on autopilot, shoes kicked off, jacket draped over her desk chair, light switched off, and slipped into bed without even changing clothes.

The second her head hit the pillow, the exhaustion she had been fighting all day caught up with her in a violent wave.

She didn’t even have the strength to fight sleep this time.

The dream didn’t creep in gently.

It dragged her under.

Water, cold, black, infinite, swallowed her whole before she could even blink.

Her lungs screamed as she struggled, arms flailing in slow motion, hair swirling around her like ink in the void.

But this time, it wasn’t vague.

It wasn’t faceless.

The hands wrapped around her throat weren’t shapeless shadows.

She could see her now.

A girl.

Long, black hair fanned out like dark ribbons in the water, drifting elegantly despite the violence in her grip.

Her face was pale, almost luminescent in the black water.

And her eyes.

Piercing. Unnatural. Blue that wasn’t blue, but like frozen lightning cracking through a storm.

Y/N’s vision blurred from the pressure and the water burning at her eyes, but those eyes burned right through the distortion.

Hateful.

Merciless.

The girl’s lips were twisted into a cruel snarl, and when she opened her mouth, bubbles escaping like tiny silver ghosts, Y/N heard nothing.

But she felt the words.

“Thief,” they echoed, deep in her bones.

Y/N thrashed harder. Her hands clawed at the girl’s wrists, but it was like trying to tear stone from a mountain.

The girl squeezed tighter.

“Stolen,” the word cut through again. Not spoken aloud, but inside Y/N’s skull like a blade scraping against bone.

“No!” Y/N tried to cry, but only bubbles escaped her lips.

She couldn’t breathe. Her vision went white at the edges.

She was going to die.

Again.

Again, the word struck her like lightning.

Like this wasn’t the first time.

The girl leaned in closer, her face inches from Y/N’s as she tightened her grip, her black hair curling around Y/N like vines pulling her deeper.

“You are not yours,” the girl whispered this time, and this time, Y/N heard it.

Heard it in that warped, watery realm.

“You are mine.”

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

Y/N shot up in bed.

Her chest heaved. Sweat coated her face and neck.

Her fingers instinctively flew to her throat. No marks.

No bruises.

But it felt real.

Her throat ached from phantom hands. Her ears still rang with that last word.

“You are mine.”

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, rocking slightly on the edge of her bed as she tried to shake the terror loose from her muscles.

But deep down she knew…That wasn’t just a nightmare. That wasn’t just a random, bad dream.

Someone, something, had shown itself to her.

Y/N wasn’t sure she was waking up from just a dream anymore.

[bunnynoirr]

Twilight x black reader part 2

𝐍𖣠𝐓𝐄 ☦︎📓 ݈݇⎼: Me personally I always think of kristopher Hyatt as Embry call. You don’t have to think of him ig but remember that’s who I have in mind🤭. This late sorry bout that, I got caught up with school.

Part 1 💜 -> part 3💜

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔⚠︎: dissociation 

Forks High smelled like wet paper and tired dreams.

Y/N moved through the hallways quietly, eyes down, hands buried in her hoodie pocket. It wasn’t fear, exactly. More like instinct. Something told her not to make too much noise. Not to leave too big of a footprint.

She found her locker after a few wrong turns. The metal was cold and stuck slightly when she twisted the handle. She grunted as it opened, just in time for a familiar voice to slip in behind her like smoke.

“You’ve been walking around this hell hole like someone’s following you.”

Sophia.

Leaning against the locker next to hers, arms crossed, dark brown hair tucked behind one ear, blue eyes watching like they knew things Y/N didn’t. Probably did.

“I’ve been walking like someone who doesn’t want to be here,” Y/N muttered.

Sophia raised a brow. “Ha, so… adjusting.”

They walked down the hallway together. Sophia moved like she owned the building. Y/N trailed beside her like a quiet shadow. Around them, the sounds of high school life buzzed. Mia’s laughter could be heard somewhere behind them, Andrew loudly over-explaining a TV show, Matt still waging war with his locker.

Y/N glanced around as they moved. Faces blurred past. That creeping sensation that someone was watching her was there again. Even when no one was looking.

Sophia’s voice cut through the fog, too soft, too sharp.

“You ever get the feeling like… you’re not gonna make it past eighteen?”

Y/N slowed.

Sophia didn’t look at her. “Never mind.”

“No,” Y/N said. “You don’t get to drop a line like that and act like it was nothing.”

Sophia let out a dry laugh. “Don’t get soft on me. I’m just saying if I drop dead next week, at least I’ll be remembered for my charm.”

“You’re not going to die,” Y/N said, her voice firmer than she expected.

Sophia finally looked at her. Studying her. Like she couldn’t decide whether to believe her or not.

“You sound pretty sure.”

Y/N didn’t reply.

But the feeling that something was watching—lurking just behind the moment definitely got stronger.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

Lunch came fast.

The cafeteria buzzed with noise and artificial lighting. Angel waved Y/N over. Mia was mid-rant about math homework being “an act of war.”

Andrew gave her a lazy smile. Matt told a joke no one laughed at. Sophia stared down her salad like it had said something offensive.

But Y/N wasn’t really there.

Half-tuned out. Half-searching for something she couldn’t name.

The air felt wrong. Thick. Like trying to breathe through velvet.

Her fingers curled against the table. She didn’t know what she was expecting, just that something was off. Her new friends didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe they just didn’t care. People like them would feel it, shrug, and move on to texting about dinner plans.

So she kept quiet.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

After School.

The rain returned, draping the town in mist and gray. Y/N walked home slowly. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Angel texting about movie night, Mia about snacks.

She sent a heart. Promised she’d go. Pretended the knot in her chest wasn’t pulling tighter.

Her route curved past the woods.

And then, like always, past the lake.

She stopped.

She always stopped.

The water stretched out like a mirror someone forgot to shatter. The sky reflected in cracked gray shards. Still. Too still for it to be raining.

She stepped closer. Her boots sank into the wet ground. Her breath fogged the air in front of her and it curled like a warning.

Then—

She felt it.

A presence.

Real this time.

She turned.

At the edge of the tree line, barely visible through the mist, stood a boy.

Tall. Dark-haired. Still.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. But he watched her like he knew her. Like he’d been searching for her without knowing it.

Her heart stuttered.

She opened her mouth. “Were you—?”

But when she blinked, he was gone. No footsteps. No goodbye.

Just trees. Just silence.

Just the certainty that something had found her.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

The forest didn’t usually make him feel like this. It was supposed to calm him.

Usually, it did. The rhythm of his paws on wet ground. The bite of the wind. The quiet pulse of the trees. But today? The air buzzed. Wrong. Off-key.

Then—

The scent.

It hit him like a memory he never lived.

Not unpleasant. Earthy. Warm. Old in a way that hurt. Like firelight and forgotten books. Like damp soil and something half-buried.

It tugged at something beneath his skin.

He stilled. And the forest stopped with him.

He could hear the pack in the distance. Jacob’s steady hum of thought. Leah was irritated, always. Seth, daydreaming as usual.

They hadn’t caught it. But he did.

He shifted back behind the trees without thinking. Body still humming. Every hair on his arms stood up.

And then he saw her.

Standing at the lake’s edge like a ghost someone had long forgotten about.

Dark hoodie. Eyes too deep. Stillness wrapped around her like silk, and time stopped. His chest collapsed.

No breath. No thought. No control.

Just her.

The world tilted. The forest held its breath. Every bit of noise around him dissipated.

And he knew.

He knew her soul.

Every piece. Every possibility. Every life he could’ve lived without her gone.

His heart seized. Restarted.

Imprint.

Not warmth. Not peace. A soul-level detonation.

Like his spirit had waited lifetimes for hers, and now that it had found her, it was clawing its way forward to be seen.

She turned.

Eyes met his, and his is knees nearly gave.

She didn’t know him. Didn’t know what he was. But he knew her.

And it scared him so badly that he ran.

Through the woods, his paws hit the dirt like thunder. His heart beat too loud, too fast. The pack was shouting through the link, but it was static in his ears.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

He’d imprinted. And the girl he’d imprinted on?

She smelled like something ancient. Like danger.

Like fate rewriting itself just to let her in.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

Y/N took the strange boy in the woods as her sign to go home, and to go fast. Her feet moved before her thoughts caught up, carrying her down the winding road toward the house like something was chasing her, even if it wasn’t.

But her mind stayed behind.

That boy.

His stillness. The way he’d stared. Like he knew her. Like he’d seen her before she even arrived in this town.

No matter how fast she walked, she couldn’t shake it.

Then there was the vulture.

It perched high in the trees along the road, too still, too focused. Its black eyes didn’t move, but somehow followed her with perfect precision.

Y/N didn’t believe in signs. Not really. But something about that bird felt like a message. And she didn’t want to read it.

Still, by the time she reached her house, she was half-convinced she’d imagined all of it.

The moment she opened the front door, the smell of dinner wrapped around her like a soft blanket with onions, garlic, something rich bubbling on the stove.

Her mom’s voice called from the kitchen, light and warm

“Hey, baby!”

“Hey,” Y/N called back, quieter.

Thomas sat at the table, hunched over a coloring book full of cartoon cars with goofy faces, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration. Evelyn was at the stove, stirring something, humming a tune that tugged at the edge of Y/N’s memory. Something she hadn’t heard since she was little.

Her dad wasn’t home yet, probably still at work.

Y/N stepped farther into the kitchen. Evelyn didn’t look up as she asked,

“How was your day, baby?”

Y/N gave the automatic answer. “It was fine.”

Evelyn hummed in approval. Y/N hesitated. “My friend’s having a movie night. I promised I’d go, so I won’t be here for dinner.” That got Evelyn to turn around, eyebrows raised. “Wow. Already got friends inviting you to sleepovers? This is new for you, Miss Thang.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

Evelyn grinned and shook her head. “I’m just glad my baby’s finally getting out of that shell. Go have fun. I’ll put some dinner away for you, and just don’t do anything you know I’d tear your ass for!” Y/N was already heading upstairs, giggling. “Yes, ma’am!”

She was too old for whoopings at this point, but her body still responded like she wasn’t.

Upstairs, she changed into something more comfortable, soft leggings, fitted tee, her favorite jacket, and stared at herself in the mirror for a moment. The girl looking back at her felt closer to herself than the one who woke up from the dream this morning. But not quite there.

Not yet.

Headlights flashed across her window, and a short honk followed.

Sophia.

Y/N grabbed her bag, shouted a goodnight to her mom and Thomas, and slipped outside.

Sophia leaned over the steering wheel, arm dangling out the window. Y/n smiled “Hello, girl who welcomes death.” She laughed and slid into the passenger seat. Sophia gave her a side-eye and started the car. “You’re laughing at your impending doom?”

“No, not laughing. Just trying to understand it better.” Y/n stated.

Sophia sighed as they pulled away from the curb. “Well, good luck with that. I’ve been trying to understand it for years.”

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

The drive to Angel’s didn’t take long. Forks wasn’t exactly a maze. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, just heavy. Familiar. Comfortable in that weird way only people who’ve seen too much too young can understand.

Angel’s house came into view tall and charming, with a townhouse vibe and a porch light that flickered like it had secrets.

Before they could even make it to the door, Angel flung it open, her curly hair pulled into a bun and her arms waving wildly.

“Come on! Mia’s about to eat all the snacks before the movie even starts!”

A voice shouted from inside:

“I am not! Shut up!”

Y/N and Sophia exchanged a look, half smile, half sigh and stepped inside.

The air was warm. Loud. Safe.

For now.

[bunnynoirr]

Twilight x black reader

𝐍𖣠𝐓𝐄 ☦︎📓 ݈݇⎼: I’ve literally been working on this fic since 2020… deadass. Anywayss, this is set two years after breaking dawn part two. It’s about girl who’s about to find out that this isn’t the first time she’s walked this earth.

Part 2💜

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔⚠︎: mentions death, some spooky shit happens, Edward, Jacob, Bella…

Part 1: The water remembers

The dream came again.

It always started the same: water. Cold, black, ancient. She couldn’t see where it began or where it ended, but she knew it was a lake—deep, patient, alive.

Her bare feet hovered at the edge. The wind curled around her like fingers. Something pulled her forward, and even though every muscle screamed to stop, she stepped in.

The cold bit her bones. Her lungs burned. Hands—familiar and wrong—wrapped around her throat. She couldn’t see the face above her, only the betrayal in their grip.

She sank.

Her screams filled her skull but never made it past her lips. Her body thrashed; her soul did not. Her soul waited.

Then she’d wake up.

Y/N sat up with a gasp, sweat slicking her spine. The bedroom was still dark, but the blinds let in the faintest smear of gray morning. Her hand went to her throat out of instinct.

“Y/N!” her dad’s voice called from downstairs. “You’re gonna be late!”

She blinked the dream away, threw off the blankets, and planted her feet on the creaky wooden floor of their new house.

The place smelled like old pine, dust, and paint that hadn’t finished drying. It still felt borrowed.

In the bathroom, her reflection stared back at her like a stranger pretending to know her name. She brushed her teeth in silence. Washed her face like it might scrub the dream out of her skin. Tied her hoodie around her waist like armor.

She didn’t look in the mirror again.

Breakfast was waiting in that “we’re all pretending this is fine” kind of way. Evelyn tried to make conversation over coffee. Y/N just nodded and forced down a spoonful of cereal that turned soggy in seconds.

The rain started halfway to school.

Not heavy. Just… Forks rain. Misty. Relentless. The kind that soaked into your bones and whispered things you didn’t want to hear.

The school loomed ahead like it had grown out of the trees—brick buildings and fog-draped rooftops. Students moved in flocks like tired birds.

In the front office, the receptionist handed her a schedule and a map with a thin smile.

“Welcome to Forks High, sweetie. Building Three for first period.”

Y/N nodded, murmured a thank you, and stepped back into the hallway.

A hush followed her like she’d brought fog inside with her.

Her locker was rusted and slow to open. The number barely legible, the lock sticky from rain or disuse.

As she twisted the dial, two voices passed behind her.

“New girl,” one muttered, unimpressed.

“Yeah, but she’s cute,” another replied.

She didn’t turn. Just rolled her eyes and yanked the locker open.

The hallway buzzed with sleepy chaos. Girls laughing too loud. A guy balancing a coffee on a binder. Someone sketching weird circles in a notebook.

Then—her.

A girl with shoulder-length dark brown hair and eyes like frozen lakes leaned against the wall like she owned it. Arms crossed. Studying Y/N like she was being graded.

In the classroom, she dropped into the seat beside Y/N without hesitation.

“You’re new,” she said. Not a question.

Y/N glanced sideways. “That obvious?”

“Forks is small. We smell fresh meat.” No smile. No laugh. Just fact.

“I’m Sophia,” she added. “Don’t talk to Matt. He flirts like it’s a sport and thinks he’s funny.”

“Good to know.”

Sophia nodded once. “Hopefully, you’ll do just fine.”

Then she turned to her nails as class began.

The bell shrieked like a warning. Y/N slipped her hoodie up and followed the current of bodies.

She passed bulletin boards, limp plants, a trophy case full of dust and delusion.

Someone bumped her shoulder. Not hard—but not accidental.

“Watch it, new girl,” said a blond guy, smirking like he hadn’t just walked into her on purpose.

“Matt,” Sophia deadpanned from behind her. “Still failing basic interaction?”

He grinned wider. “You’re just jealous I have charisma.”

“Charisma isn’t a disease,” said another voice—flat, calm.

A guy with black hair and stormy grey eyes appeared beside him, scrolling through his phone. “Yours just mutated.”

Y/N raised a brow. “And you are?”

“Andrew,” he said, barely glancing up. “I follow him around so people assume I have depth.”

Sophia snorted.

Matt looked at Y/N again. “Nice voice. Want to skip class?”

Y/N blinked. “I don’t hate myself enough for that. Yet.”

Andrew coughed into his sleeve to hide a laugh.

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s gonna fit in just fine.”

By lunch, Y/N felt like she’d walked through four shades of the same gray dream.

The cafeteria smelled like wet fries and teenage disappointment.

She was debating eating alone when a girl with hazel eyes and curly black hair appeared out of nowhere and linked their arms like it was fate.

“Hi. You’re cute. I’m Angel. You’re sitting with me now.”

Y/N followed.

They wove through the chaos to a table already half-occupied.

Sophia glared at her salad. Andrew fought a Capri Sun like it owed him money. Matt was losing a battle with a chip bag.

And then there was Mia—tall, loud, black hair like silk, and green eyes that could slice glass.

“I’m just saying,” Mia ranted mid-convo, “if they want us to learn, stop making the rooms feel like prison cells and maybe give us food that doesn’t taste like betrayal.”

“She’s been monologuing since second period,” Angel whispered. “We stopped trying to stop her.”

“I can hear you,” Mia said. “And I will burn this school down for better cheese sticks.”

Y/N sat down.

And even though her shoes were still wet and her hoodie smelled like rain—she smiled.

After school, the rain was quieter. More suggestion than threat.

Y/N walked home with her hood up, letting her steps carry her on autopilot.

She didn’t mean to pass the lake.

It was just there—off the road, through a break in the trees.

Still. Black. Patient.

She stopped.

The surface looked like glass. Like it was holding a secret too tight.

She stepped closer.

Her reflection blinked at her—only, she didn’t blink back.

The eyes were darker. Sadder. Older.

She stared.

And for one second, just one—she remembered drowning.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

The forest was too still.

Birdsong had vanished. Even the trees held their breath.

Light drifted through the clouds and spilled across the Cullen cottage like it wasn’t sure it belonged.

Edward sat by the window, a book open in his lap but untouched.

Bella stepped in quietly, barefoot, her mug steaming.

“You’re pretending to read again,” she said.

He didn’t look at her. “Something’s different.”

She studied him. “What do you mean?”

He paused. “The air. It’s… familiar. But wrong.”

Bella raised a brow. “Maybe it’s just—”

“It’s old,” Edward said. “Like a name I forgot I knew.”

From the next room, Renesmee laughed. Jacob’s voice followed, low and warm.

Edward smiled.

But it didn’t reach his eyes.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

Dinner at Y/N’s house was warm but hollow.

Evelyn refilled drinks. Jack scrolled. Thomas drew superheroes on the back of his math sheet.

“This isn’t even spicy,” Thomas said through a mouthful of noodles.

“Keep saying that,” Jack replied, “but you’ll be crying in twenty minutes.”

Evelyn smirked. “Then stop eating like a raccoon.”

Y/N smiled faintly.

Evelyn noticed.

“You okay, baby? You’ve barely touched your plate.”

“I’m fine,” Y/N murmured.

“You say that the way your grandmother used to,” Evelyn said quietly. “She only said that when she wasn’t.”

Y/N blinked. “What was she like?”

Evelyn hesitated. “Complicated. She believed in signs. Dreams. Curses.”

Thomas made a ghost noise.

Evelyn changed the subject.

Later, the dishes were done. Thomas was shouting at his cartoons. Jack was asleep on the couch beside him. Evelyn read a book, already in bed.

Y/N stood on the back porch, hoodie sleeves pulled down, staring at the trees.

The wind whispered like it was trying not to wake something.

Inside her, something turned.

Not pain. Not fear.

Just the soft ache of remembering something you never lived.

That night, she dreamed again.

Only this time—she wasn’t drowning.

She was watching someone else drown. A girl with hair like ink and eyes like her own. Mouth open in a silent scream. Reaching.

Their eyes locked.

Y/N couldn’t move.

Could only watch.

They were her eyes.

Then everything went black.

She woke gasping.

The moonlight cut across her bed in the shape of a cross.

Outside her window, the shadows reached out like they knew her by name.

[bunnynoirr]

Somewhere soft

Eren Yeager x black reader (part 2)

(Part 1) <- <- <- 🩷

What’s it finna play?- OH: The titans march on without Eren. You and Eren have an another talk, this time with answers.

Warnings: none that I know of!

𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪

The wind tore through her short hair.

She didn’t move.

She stood at the edge of the airship deck, knuckles white around the railing, watching the horizon darken with smoke and dust. The earth trembled beneath them—distant, rhythmic, impossible to forget.

The Rumbling was still moving.

She could feel it in her teeth. One step. Then another. Then another. Thousands of Titans. Thousands of deaths. And all of it—Eren.

He was somewhere out there. Not just leading it. Becoming it. And still, she waited for the signal. The right moment. The right words. A breath beside her. Armin. He was speaking. She barely registered it.

“Did you feel that?” he asked.

Mikasa blinked. “What?”

Armin turned sharply, scanning the sky, the ground, everything. His face had gone pale. “Something’s wrong.” She followed his gaze. Nothing had changed. The Titans still marched. The wind still howled. But then—

She felt it.

Not like a blow. Not like a shift in balance. Just… absence. A silence that didn’t belong there. Like the moment after a blade is drawn—but before it strikes. Like reaching out for someone in the dark and realizing your hands are empty.

Armin looked shaken now. “Eren.”

Her heart clenched.

He swallowed hard. “He’s not here.”

“That’s not possible.” Her voice was quiet. Flat. The kind of calm that comes right before collapse. “it’s like—he’s been pulled away.”

She stared out at the Titans. Still moving. Still crushing the world beneath their feet.

“But they’re still marching,” she said. “He’s still in control.”

Armin shook his head. “Not completely. Something else is pushing them now. Or whatever was left of him.”

She didn’t answer.

Because she felt it too.

The invisible thread she’d always carried—tied to him since they were children—had gone slack.

Not snapped. Not broken.

Just… barely there.

Her hand moved slowly to her scarf, gripping it tighter. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. That wasn’t her way. But her chest ached with a new kind of hollow.

What the hell happened to Eren?

And wherever he’d gone… still, she hoped—just for a moment—he could finally breathe, but if she was being honest with herself, someone just disappearing was never a sign of peace.

𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪

They regrouped later in the ruins of an old Marleyan base, just outside the Titan's last known path. The air smelled like dust and steam. Like old ghosts.

They were still moving.

The Colossal Titans hadn’t stopped—not completely—but they were slower now. Sluggish. Like something inside them had gone quiet.

Dead machines still walking.

Mikasa crouched near the edge of a crumbling rooftop, her eyes locked on the endless wave of steam and earth-shaking steps stretching across the horizon.

It was wrong.

All of it.

Not just the Titans.

Not just the silence where Eren’s voice should have been.

But the world itself.

Behind her, the alliance argued. Again.

Pieck’s voice was sharp. “They’re still marching. That’s all that matters. If we wait too long, there won’t be a world left to save.”

Jean snapped back, “And what exactly do you expect us to do? We don’t even know who’s in control anymore!”

“Eren is,” Reiner said flatly, though there was no conviction behind it.

Mikasa didn’t turn around. She didn’t need to. She could feel the fracture spreading. In the team. In the mission. In everything.

They had always assumed this ended with confronting Eren.

But what if Eren was already gone?

Armin stood a few feet away, staring blankly at a map that no longer mattered. His hands trembled just slightly at his sides.

“We can’t reach him,” he said, voice low. “Not through the Paths. Not through the Titans. It’s like… he’s been cut off. Pulled out.”

“By who?” Connie demanded. “Ymir?”

No one answered.

Because no one knew.

Mikasa swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to speak. “If Eren’s not in control anymore… then the Rumbling has no plan. It’s just destruction.”

Floch—somehow still alive, still unhinged—laughed from where he leaned against a ruined wall. “So? You said it yourself. Isn’t that what he wanted?”

She turned to him slowly, eyes narrowing. “No.”

He stared back at her, smug until he realized she wasn’t just disagreeing—she was sure. “Eren wanted freedom,” she said. “Not chaos.”

The wind howled across the broken street. No one responded.

Because what do you do when the devil you came to stop disappears? When the plan becomes pointless? When the world is already burning and your reason for fighting vanishes with the smoke?

They had no answers. And for the first time since all of this began—

neither did Mikasa.

𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪

The sun is already cutting through the blinds, washing the walls in soft gold and pale blue. You’ve been awake for a while, but haven’t moved—just lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts crawling in circles.

Everything feels… quieter this morning.

But not lighter.

Eventually, you pull yourself up, stretch, and tiptoe out into the hall. You peek into the living room.

Eren’s still on the couch—but he’s awake. His elbows are on his knees, head in his hands, body hunched like he’s trying to hold himself together with nothing but tension and bone.

You clear your throat softly. “You okay?”

He grunts.

Not a yes. Not a no. Just… sound.

You nod awkwardly, standing there in your oversized sleep shirt and socks, arms crossed like they might keep you from asking more.

The silence hums for a second.

Then you say it. “You… need a shower.” He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t argue either.

You disappear into the hall closet, grabbing a towel and a fresh rag, then place them on the bathroom counter before glancing back at him.

“Go ahead,” you say gently. “Take your time.”

He stands, slow and stiff, and disappears into the bathroom without a word.

Thirty minutes later, the door creaks open.

Steam curls out from the crack as Eren steps into the hall, hair still damp, skin flushed from the heat. He’s wearing the clean shirt and sweats you left on the counter—ones that actually fit this time. Not too loose. Not swallowing him whole.

He looks… more human now. Less like a loaded gun ready to fire. You’re in the kitchen when he walks in, flipping eggs in the skillet, the smell of toast and bacon curling into the air.

You glance over your shoulder. And pause. Not because he’s standing there. But because—damn.

Clean, quiet, still a little dazed—but undeniably handsome. The kind of handsome that sneaks up on you and makes your breath catch before you can stop it.

You look back at the pan, pretending you didn’t notice.

“Those clothes look better on you,” you say casually, “They were from an ex. Few years ago. Took me forever to find them again.”

He doesn’t respond.

Just stands there, staring past you, like he’s watching something only he can see.

You press your lips together. “Go sit,” you say gently. “I’ll bring you a plate.” He does as he’s told—same as last night—moving to the small kitchen table like he’s sleepwalking.

You finish plating the food—toast, eggs, bacon, a cup of orange juice—and place it in front of him. Then you slide into the seat across the table with your own plate.

He doesn’t move at first. Just looks at it. Like he’s trying to decide if it’s real.

You start eating. Quietly. Slowly. Eventually, he picks up his fork. Takes a bite of the eggs.

You finish before him, scoop up your plate, and carry it to the sink. You’re rinsing it when you hear his voice for the first time since that grunt this morning.

Low. Rough. From behind you.

“…You didn’t have to do all this.”

𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪

He watches your back as you rinse your plate.

Sunlight cuts across your shoulders, soft through the kitchen window, making the steam rising from the sink look almost holy.

He doesn’t understand this place.

This stillness.

This version of you—calm, quiet, warm without flinching. You brought him water. Gave him a shower. Clothes. Breakfast.

He doesn’t know how to hold this.

“…You didn’t have to do all this,” he says.

You don’t look at him, but your voice is steady. “I know.”

A pause.

“But I wanted to.”

Silence settles between you, thick and waiting.

Eren looks down at his plate—half-eaten eggs, a crust of toast—and wonders how long it’ll last. How long until the look changes. Until you remember he’s not just some guy with memory loss and a temper problem.

He sets his fork down.

And begins.

“I’m not from here,” he says quietly. “You probably figured that.”

You still don’t turn around.

“I’m from a place where people live inside walls because monsters roam outside them. Giant ones. Titans. I used to be one.”

You still. Just slightly. But you don’t speak.

He presses on.

“I’ve killed people. A lot of people. I destroyed cities. I started a war… ended others. I thought it was the only way.”

Your shoulders stay still.

“I wasn’t always like that,” he says. “I wanted to be free. That’s all. But I kept losing people. Watching everyone else decide how the world should be. So I made a decision.”

He pauses.

“The wrong one.”

He watches you like he’s waiting for the recoil. For you to flinch, to step back, to say what the fuck is wrong with you?

He braces for it.

You say nothing.

You just turn around slowly, your face unreadable, your eyes locked on his.

You stare at him for a second too long—long enough that he starts to feel it in his chest, like a burn.

And then, with a breath:

“Well. Good thing you got zapped out of there before you committed mass genocide.”

The words hit him like a slap he didn’t see coming. He stiffens. Jaw tightens. “It was the only way,” he snaps, sharper than intended.

You raise a brow, not backing down.

You don’t argue. You don’t agree.

You just lean your hip against the counter and let the silence breathe between you.

Then, finally:

“…Do you want to go back?”

The question is quiet. Dry. Honest.

But it lands heavy.

He blinks. Looks away. Something in his stomach twists.

Because he hasn’t even asked himself that yet.

You ask if he wants to go back—

And for some fucked up reason,

he doesn’t know how to answer.

𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪 𓆩❤︎𓆪

You don’t push him for an answer.

You don’t need to.

The silence says enough.

He won’t look at you. Not directly. Just stares down at his plate like the answer might be hidden in the leftover crumbs.

You walk over quietly and sit across from him again, pulling your chair in slowly, your hands folding around your now-empty glass like they might hold the moment steady.

You speak softly. No edge. No judgment. Just the truth.

“…I’d understand if you didn’t want to go back.”

He lifts his head a little. Just enough to glance at you.

“It’s obvious you’ve had it rough,” you continue. “And I don’t mean just the whole war and Titans thing. I mean…”

You pause. Shrug.

“I don’t know. You look like you’ve been holding your breath for years.”

Eren’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t interrupt.

You lean back slightly. “I’m not saying any of it was right. And I’m not saying I get what it’s like to carry that kind of weight.”

You meet his eyes.

“But I know what it’s like to be tired.”

That’s all you say.

You don’t ask him to open up. You don’t offer comfort he might not want. You just sit there, honest and still.

Across the table, Eren finally exhales.

Not in relief. Not in peace.

But like he’s finally starting to feel how tired he really is.

[bunnynoirr]

Somewhere soft

Eren Yeager x black reader (part 1)

Pilot <- <- <- 🩷 -> -> -> (part 2)

What we finna read?: Eren Yeager was supposed to end the world. Instead, he wakes up in one that doesn't need saving. No Titans. No walls. No war. Just strangers with kind eyes, quiet apartments, and a girl who looks at him like he's more than the destruction he's caused.

Warnings: none that I know of

The grass is too green. The sky is too blue. The people are too calm.

Eren staggers to his feet like a wild animal, barefoot, bloodstained, panting. His body still buzzes with the echo of the Founder’s power, but it’s slipping. Fading. Gone.

He whips his head around. Skyscrapers stretch into the sky like unbroken Wall Maria. Trees sway with the breeze, not the stomp of Titans. A group of teenagers laugh near a fountain. A jogger runs past with something in her ears. No one’s screaming. No one’s dying. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

“WHERE AM I?!”

His voice cuts through the air like a gunshot. People stop. Stare. Step back.

Eren’s chest heaves. His fists clench. He spins in a circle, searching—there has to be something, anything—an enemy, a clue, a reason why he’s still breathing.

His eyes lock on a metal pole with a blinking light at the top. A surveillance device? A weapon? He launches toward it. But just before he reaches it—

“Hey! Wait—wait! Stop!” A blur steps between him and the pole. You. “Don’t—don’t do that, you’ll get hurt!” you say, breathless, hands half-raised in defense but not fear. He freezes. You’re not in uniform. You’re not holding a weapon. You’re not from Marley or Eldia or any place he’s ever known. You’re just… there. Concerned. Real.

“What did you just say?” he growls, voice low and dangerous. “I said don’t touch that. It’s electrical.” You point to the pole. “You could’ve shocked yourself. Are you okay?”

He laughs. A short, broken, humorless thing.

“‘Okay?’” His voice cracks. “You think—this—” he gestures wildly at the park, the people, the sky, “—is okay? Where are the Titans? Where’s the war? Where are the walls?!” You blink. “There are… no Titans. Or walls.” He stares at you like you just told him the sky is red.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“This has to be a trick. The Paths. The Founder. Something.” His hands go to his head, fingers digging into his scalp. “I was there—I felt it—I was ending the world…” You step closer slowly, cautiously, like you’re approaching a wounded animal. “What’s your name?” He doesn’t answer. He’s trembling. You lower your voice. “You’re safe. I don’t know where you came from, but… wherever that was, you’re not there anymore.”

“I can’t be safe,” he snarls, and suddenly his eyes flash—green, wild, furious. “People die when I’m safe.” You pause. Let that sink in. Then, softer: “No one’s dying right now.” He falters. The tension in his shoulders shakes.

He looks at your eyes like he’s trying to find proof you’re real.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers.

And just like that, his knees buckle. You lunge forward, catching him as he collapses into the grass, weight trembling against your arms. You don’t know who he is. You don’t know what he’s seen. But for some reason, you can’t let go.

𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪

You should’ve walked away.

Every logical part of you said don’t get involved—but then he looked at you like the world was ending. Like maybe it already had. And maybe… just maybe… you’ve looked that way too.

So here you are, standing on the edge of the sidewalk, one arm around his back, the other hovering nervously by his side. His muscles are coiled tight, like a spring ready to snap.

The blood on his clothes is drying. His eyes won’t stop darting around.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” you say for what must be the fifth time. “You’re bleeding. You’re clearly concussed—or at least dehydrated. Please.”

“No hospitals,” he growls.

You sigh, frustrated but not surprised. “Then where?” He doesn’t answer. Just stares at a passing bus like it’s a monster in disguise.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Okay… okay, fine. You can come to my place. Just for now. It’s cozy, it’s quiet, and there’s water. You need water.” He flinches at the word quiet, but doesn’t protest. That’s the most you’ve gotten from him.

And that’s enough for you.

𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪

It’s not big. Not flashy. Just a one-bedroom above a bookstore with creaky floors, thrifted furniture, and a flickering ceiling light that needs fixing—but it’s yours.

Eren stands frozen in your entryway like he’s expecting the walls to collapse on him.

You close the door gently, then slide the chain lock into place, more out of habit than anything. You glance over your shoulder at him—barefoot, still breathing hard, and looking like he might bolt.

You toe off your shoes. “You can sit. Or stand. Or pace. Whatever works.”

He doesn’t move.

You disappear into the kitchen and fill a glass with cold tap water. When you offer it to him, he eyes it suspiciously, like you handed him a vial of poison.

“It’s just water,” you say. “I’m not trying to drug you.” He takes it slowly, fingertips brushing yours. Then he gulps the water down in three deep swallows.

You exhale and lean against the counter, arms crossed. “I know this is probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done,” you say out loud, mostly to yourself. “Letting a stranger into my apartment. A bloody stranger. Who growled at me in public and said some real cryptic end-of-the-world shit.”

Eren stiffens, but you hold up a hand.

“I’m not saying I regret it. I’m saying I know it sounds crazy.” He watches you silently. On edge. Waiting for the catch. “I just… saw something in your face,” you admit. “It’s not pity. I’m not even scared of you for some reason. It’s Just… that look. Like you were somewhere you couldn’t get out of. And I’ve been there.”

You push off the counter and move to grab a clean towel from a small laundry basket in the hallway storage closet. “I told myself if you tried anything sketchy, I’d scream, break a lamp over your head, or run to my neighbor’s. She’s a retired cop.”

Eren blinks, almost like that is the part he doesn’t understand. You smirk a little. “See? I’m not totally defenseless.”

He finally lowers himself onto the couch, like his bones are heavier than they should be. You approach slowly, holding out the towel.

“You’re bleeding. Still.”

He hesitates before reaching out and taking it. Doesn’t say thank you. Doesn’t need to.

You sit across from him, still tense, but less afraid now. “Do you have a name?” you ask gently. A pause. Then, quiet and rough: “Eren.”

You nod. “I’m [Y/n].” You offer your hand, unsure why. He stares at it for a long second, like the gesture is foreign. Then, slowly, he reaches out and grips it—calloused, steady, warm.

And somehow, that’s the moment something minuscule shifts.

𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪

She offers her hand.

Steady. Calm. No force behind it. No catch.

Eren knows what it means. A greeting. A connection. A small, human ritual. But he doesn't understand why she's offering it to him.

He's a stranger.

He's bloody. Ragged. Barefoot and barely holding it together. And yet here she is-offering her name. Her space. A towel. A place to sit. Water.

And now this.

He stares at her hand, and a dozen thoughts crawl through his mind. What does she want from me?

Is this a test? A trick? A kindness with a hidden cost? Because in his world, no one gives without reason. There's always a price. Loyalty. Obedience. Blood. Something.

Even with Armin. Even with Mikasa.

But she hasn't asked for anything. She hasn't even expected anything. Just handed him a glass of water and said he could sit down. Like it was nothing. Like he's nothing to be afraid of. His fingers wrap around hers slowly-just long enough for the contact to register.

Warm.

Alive.

Real.

He lets go first. Quickly. Before it can settle too deep. And yet—Something does shift. A shift he can't explain. Not in the room. Not in her. In him. And that's what unsettles him the most.

𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪Later That Night 𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. And sleep doesn’t come. Eren moves through the dark hallway like a shadow, steps light on the creaky floor. He stops outside her bedroom door.

It’s closed. Locked.

He doesn’t try to open it. Doesn’t knock.

He just stands there. One hand flexing at his side. His jaw tight. His eyes fixed on nothing. He shifts his weight. Stares at the space beneath the door. Listens for her breathing.

It’s there—steady. Calm.

He doesn’t know why that makes his chest feel tight. He turns away and pads quietly into the kitchen, one hand dragging through his hair.

The lights are off. He doesn’t turn them on.

Just stands there, one hand braced against the counter, the other resting on the edge of the sink. His reflection stares back at him faintly from the dark window above the faucet—barely visible. Just a shadow.

He breathes in deep. Out slow. But it doesn’t help. His skin still feels too tight.

𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪

You wake up suddenly.

No sound. No light. Just that feeling.

Like something isn’t sitting right with the night. You sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes, and glance at the clock.

2:47 a.m.

Of course.

You pull your blanket around your shoulders and step carefully into the hall, not flipping on the light. Your apartment is quiet—but not empty. The faint sound of the fridge hums through the dark.

You follow it.

The kitchen is cloaked in shadows, lit only by the glow of the city outside—blue moonlight spilling across countertops and cabinets.

And there he is.

Standing near the sink, one hand braced against the counter, the other hanging limp at his side. He’s not moving. Just… there, like a statue set down in the wrong century.

His back is to you, shoulders tense, the soft fabric of your borrowed shirt wrinkled from where he’s been tugging at the hem.

You speak gently. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He flinches—not from fear, but from being pulled too suddenly back into the present. His head turns just slightly, enough to catch your silhouette. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

You step inside, feet bare on cool tile, blanket trailing behind you. You don’t press him. Don’t switch on the light. You just stand with him in the dark. “I’ve never had silence like this before,” he says after a pause, voice low and frayed at the edges.

You blink. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He gestures vaguely toward the apartment. The walls. The stillness. “This.” He turns more fully now, but not enough to face you. Just enough for the moonlight to catch in his eyes.

“It’s too quiet. It makes me think.”

You nod, arms folding around yourself. “Thinking can be loud.” He breathes out through his nose, like he didn’t expect you to get it. You let the silence hang, soft and heavy.

Then: “You want tea?”

He hesitates. Like the question doesn’t quite compute.

“Something warm,” you offer. “Helps when the thoughts won’t shut up.”

He doesn’t answer. But when you move to the cabinet and quietly begin boiling water, he doesn’t stop you.

And when you hand him the mug—steam curling up between your fingers, light catching faintly on ceramic—he takes it.

Carefully.

You both linger in the dark kitchen for a while, the world outside muffled and far away, lit only by the soft spill of moonlight through the window.

Eventually, you move toward the table, your bare feet soft against the tile. You pull out one of the wooden chairs and sit, cradling your mug in both hands.

“Sit,” you say gently, motioning to the chair across from you. He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t question it. Just moves.

You’re a little surprised by that—not because you expected resistance, but because Eren doesn’t seem like the kind of person who does things just because someone asks.

But you don’t voice it.

You just watch him sit, his movements stiff and tired, like his body’s still running on survival alone.

Then you glance down at your mug—warmth coiling through your fingers like a poor substitute for peace and take a slow breath.

He hasn’t touched his tea.

Just stares at it, like maybe if he glares hard enough, it’ll spill secrets instead of steam.

The silence stretches.

He’s been here almost twenty-four hours now. Given him clothes. A place to rest. But he’s still a stranger. And you don’t do strangers.

You shift slightly in your chair. “I know you said your name is Eren,” you start carefully. “And I get that you’re… not from around here.” He doesn’t look up. “But I need to know more than that.”

Nothing.

Your voice sharpens. Not angry—just firm. “If you’re going to stay here, I need to know who I’m sharing my space with.”

That gets him.

His eyes flick up, guarded, green, a little wild around the edges. “I told you what I can.”

You tilt your head. “That’s not the same as telling the truth.”

He exhales through his nose. “You wouldn’t believe the truth.”

You raise a brow. “Try me.”

His jaw tenses. He looks down at the tea again, fingers curling tighter around the mug.

“You want a name? You have it. Eren. You want details?” His voice tightens. “I don’t have them. Not right now.”

You narrow your eyes. “So what—you just No idea how you got to that park in the middle of day?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes.”

You stare at him. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink.

He’s not lying. You can feel it. But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t expect anything from you.”

The words are sharp—colder than the room.

You sit back, mug forgotten. “I’m not asking for your life story, Eren. But if you’re going to keep sleeping on my couch and drinking my tea, I need something.”

He stands abruptly.

Too fast.

The chair legs scrape against the floor, and for a second, it’s not the stranger who calls himself Eren in your kitchen anymore—it’s something wounded, something that doesn’t fit in soft places.

“I don’t know how I got here,” he says, voice low but shaking. “I don’t know why. Or who pulled me out. Or if I’m going to wake up and find out none of this was real.”

You blink.

His chest is rising faster now. Hands clenched. Tea forgotten. The steam spirals between you like breath caught in a throat.

“I’m trying not to fall apart,” he adds. “So if it’s too much—if I’m too much—you can say it. I’ll leave.”

You watch him.

Quiet. Steady.

Your pulse is racing, but your voice is calm when it comes. “I didn’t ask you to leave, Eren.” That seems to knock the wind out of him a little. “I’m asking you to let me in. Just enough to know I’m not letting something dangerous live in my house.”

His eyes flicker—somewhere between offended and ashamed.

You stand, slowly, and take his cup. Still full. Still warm. “Sleep on it,” you say “Tomorrow… maybe you tell me something real.”

You rinse the mug and don’t look back. Behind you, the air is thick with unsaid things.

But he doesn’t leave.

And you don’t make him.

[bunnynoirr]

Eren x black reader

Pilot ———> (part 1)

He was supposed to end it all but instead he’s here- with you. In this unfamiliar place you call home.

The world is crumbling beneath his command.

Eren stands atop the bones of cities, the sound of countless Colossal Titans thundering in his ears. He can feel it all—every scream, every death, every terrified heartbeat crushed underfoot. And yet, he doesn’t flinch.

This is the price of freedom. His freedom. Their freedom. Paradise’s freedom.

Right?

He tries not to think about Mikasa. Or Armin. Or that final look on Hange’s face before she let go. He tells himself this is what he wanted.

And still…

Somewhere in the back of his mind, there’s a whisper. A question he’s tried to bury.

What if there was another way?

His head throbs suddenly—pain blooming behind his eyes like lightning. The world wavers. The air thickens. Time stutters.

For a second, everything around him freezes. The Titans stop. The earth stops. Even the sky pauses. And then—

White.

Blinding, endless white swallows everything. He tries to move, but he can’t feel his legs. Can’t feel the Founder’s power. Can’t feel anything. Is this the Paths again?

But there’s no Ymir. No Zeke. No chains.

More to come…

[bunnynoirr]

Eren Yeager x black reader

This time, it’s not the reader who’s thrown into a brutal new world.

It’s Eren Yeager.

Eren Yeager who has spent his whole life fighting for freedom that always seemed just out of reach.

Eren who’s never known peace without the cost of blood.

Eren who wakes up in a world where titans don’t exist, walls aren’t necessary, and people plan for the future instead of just hoping to survive another day.

In this world, freedom isn’t something you fight for, it’s something you’re born with.

And for the first time, Eren doesn’t know what to do with all that freedom.

And he meets you.

You, who shows him that safety isn’t a lie.

You, who teach him how to laugh, how to rest…

How to live.

Eren is faced with a choice. He knows he has to go back home. He knows his world needs him.

But he’s not sure if he wants to anymore, because in this new world with you, Eren Yeager has finally found the freedom he has always dreamed of.

I don’t know if it’s been done before (I’m sure it has) but the idea literally popped into my head and I had to put it out. Let me know if y’all want a full fic. Hugs and kisses🩷

[bunnynoirr]

Ony x reader

Cw: unprotected sex, cum eating, pnv, I think that’s it….

Late night drives with slow music and a blunt was you and Ony thing. The car had been parked and the two of you sat inside it at the top of an empty parking garage, so you could have the view of the stars and the finally quiet college town that sat just below it. Everyone had been out partying and getting drunk with their lovers, ands friends only a few hours ago, but now it was quiet. The festive couples of all kinds had tucked themselves away together probably getting ready to make the night an even more memorable one.

And so, now you and Ony’s night could begin. Everything about you guys was quiet. Even your unspoken love for each other, and yet, everyone knew. They didn’t know the details, but everyone could tell that something unspoken was there, something never put into words. It had been so obvious, from the lingering glances and sitting so close too each other that it looked more like y’all were glued at the hip to the sneaking off in the middle of a party and your friends almost losing their minds trying to find you only to learn that you and Ony had been outside the whole time smoking and laughing about god knows what. By know everyone had assumed the two of you had started dating and just hadn’t said anything, but in truth y’all were still technically friends, just two people who hang out all the time and on occasion get a little to drunk and make out in the corner of a crowded party. That’s all it was… well until tonight that is. Ony had pulled up to your house and texted asking if you wanted to ride with him and of course you agreed. Slipping on some short and a hoodie, you all but ran to get into the passenger seat of his car. Y’all rode around for a bit listening to music and joking around before Ony finally pulled into the spot you and him were already very familiar with, being that y’all had had many nights like this before, but tonight would be different because Ony was tired and he was ready and what better night to ask you then tonight? He doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous before though. The car is still only filled with the voices and melodies that come from the speakers in the car. He relaxes back into his seat and pull out a little tray, a grinder, rolling paper, and a little plastic baggie filled with weed. He rolls the blunt trying to keep his mind at ease but you watch him with low sultry eyes and he can’t help but grin as he licks the blunt, knowing exactly what you’re thinking. “What’s up ma? You like that?” You giggle and he thinks his heart skips a beat every time he hears it. “Shut up Ony. You know I do.” And now suddenly his jeans feel too tight, but he just laughs and ignores the feeling in his pants as he lifts the blunt to her lips. “Here, ladies first” you take the blunt between your lips and he flick on the lighter and lights it for you. You take a hit and pass it back to him the same way he he did to you. Y’all go back and forth like that for a bit nodding your heads to the music until y’all’s eyes were red and glossy. Finally Ony cracks his window to let some of the smoke out and turns to you. “Ma, we need to talk.” You turn to look at him immediately. “Uh oh, what I do?” Ony laughs and shakes his head. “Nah it’s nothing like that, but it is something that I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” You nod even though you’re confused. “Okay yeah what’s up?” Ony licks his lips and looks you dead in the eyes.

“I want you” the car was car was silent for a moment, but soon it’s filled with a giggle from you. “Boy, you have me.” and Ony shakes his head, but before he could explain himself further you beat him to it. “I mean, I’ve always been yours Ony.” He looks at you confused and you click your tongue and roll your eyes. “Ony, we literally hang out 24/7, have kissed on multiple occasions and now we’re out on Valentine’s Day, stargazing at our favorite spot… you think I’d do all that with some nigga I ain’t want?” Ony stares at you for a moment before he leans back laughing a little. “Damn ma, I’m sitting over here nervous and shit, thinking you was gonna wanna be friends and you just gone laugh in my face and call me stupid like that? That’s fucked up.” You laugh again with a surprised look on you face “What? Nigga I never called you stupid… you’re just a bit slow.” Your voice lowers on that last part and you look off to the side with a grin on your face, and Ony quickly grabs the back of your neck, making your shoulders shoot up and your head tuck in as he shakes you slightly. You two giggle passing playful hits back and forth at each other for few minutes before settling down and soon a comfortable silence fills the air once again, but only for a moment before you look over at him with a small smile. “Does that mean it’s official now?” You stare at him with anticipation and he chuckles as he reaches over the console to pull you into his lap “I think you caught my slowness ma, let me help you out a bit.” You giggle as you get comfortable straddling his lap. Ony’s hand cups the side of your head and soon your lips meet in a soft, slow kiss that slowly turn rough and passionate in the matter of seconds. His hand moves from your face, and down to push your hips down and into a rocking motion. The both of you let out a moan against each other. While y’all had shared many kisses before y’all had never fucked. You hadn’t even felt his dick until now, and fuck Ony was big. You break the kiss to lean back your hands going for the waist band of his pants and Ony watches your face with a smile as you pull out his very hard dick that was leaking at the tip. He lets out a sharp breath as you wrap your hand around it and massage the tip with your thumb, spreading the pre-cum all around it. “You’ve been like this for a while, huh?” You have a grin on your face and Ony nods as he still stares into your eyes. “Yea, only fa you baby.” At that you lean down to kiss him again and his hand slips under your hoodie. He runs his thumb over them for a few seconds before you’re both moving to pull it over your head. It gets thrown into the abyss of the back seat and immediately his lip latch on to one of your nipples and sucks and licks as you stroke his dick. The car is now suddenly hot, the air filled with the sound your breathy moans and the radio playing “no chill by partynexdoor” on low. “fuck-ma” his hips suddenly buck up into your hand sharply and you look down with a small smile to find he had came all over your hand. He grab a napkin out the glove compartment to clean it up only to look back at catch you licking your hand clean and you both feel how his dick jumps. You smile and shuffle on his lap, taking off your shorts, he helps you and soon you’re easing down on Ony dick, letting out a moan as the back of your thighs meet his. You pull his head into your chest and he wraps his arm around you as you begin to bounce. Ony moans into your chest “fuck ma, feel so fucking good and all fa me.” You bounce faster as a puddle of your mixed fluids form at the base of his dick. “Yess daddy all yours- it’s yours- fuck” your pussy clenches tightly around him and you cum, but Ony begins to fuck up into you. “O-Ony it’s too much f-fuck i caaann’t” you try to up from his lap but he pulls you back down and hold you there as he abuses your pussy. “Hell nah ma. I give me another one, I know you can.” He says through gritted teeth. You whine and not long after, he has you cumming on his dick for a second time.

You lay limp on his chest with him still inside you. He lifts you up to slip himself out and button back up his jeans. Then he reaches to the backseat and pulls out a blanket and throws it over the both of you. The car is quiet again, but this time the radio is turned off and you listen to Ony’s heart beat while he rubs your back. It was nice and while others thought it was weird how you two could sit in silence with each other for so long, it’s was comforting to y’all just being in each other’s presence like this. To feel like nothing else mattered but the two of you.

[bunnynoirr]

What do I write?

Ok, so I’ll write for any fandom I just have to know wtf you’re talking about because I fear if I don’t the writing won’t be as good 😬 so to stay safe here are some fandoms that I’m into.

Jujutsu Kaisen

Attack on Titan

Twilight

Vampire diaries

The originals

Call of duty

Mind you I am black so I will mostly be writing “x black!reader” fic but i am open to making some more inclusive fics so if you specifically want a “x black!black reader” say that and if you don’t just put “x reader” I’ll know.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Now let’s talk smut- DUN DUN DUNNNN😧🤭. Lol, I think I’m a pretty kinky bitch, so I’ll just make a list of what I won’t do. If it’s not here then it’s okay to assume that I will do it.

Foot play (I don’t do feet… just can’t sorry)

Scat (wtf🤢)

Piss 😐

Puke😒

And there’s more but I can’t think of it right now so if I don’t fuck with it I just won’t write it, but again there isn’t much I don’t fw with.

How often do I write?

I am a full-time college student and I have a job, but I will try and be as consistent as I possibly can so please be understanding.🩷🩷🩷

Much love and happy reading!💋

[bunnynoirr]

New writer

Heyy. You can call me bunny🩷 I’ve been thinking about writing fanfic on here for a while and finally thought what the hell why not?🤷🏾‍♀️ so here I am. I’m new to posting my work so if you happen to come across some of it in the future don’t be afraid to critique it, I won’t be mad I promise as long as it’s done politely. Also if you do end up liking my work or just want me to write something specific I’ve made an ask box that I will make do’s and don’t on.

Give me suggestions please. Love y’all byeee🩷

[bunnynoirr]

The Original Man Eater

[bunnynoirr]

[bunnynoirr]

Dresses I’d lose 75 pounds and choke slam a bitch to get into😩🩷

[bunnynoirr]

if you're black, reblog this

[bunnynoirr]

Happy Black History Month!

We are back with our third year of #BlackExcellence365. Now that we are the BIG 3, it seems only right to launch a blog dedicated to BLACK EXCELLENCE. 

This blog is about all things BLACK and EXCELLENT, showcasing the Black community’s contributions to the world. From music to fashion to literature to historical spotlights—we’ll be featuring all of it.

We will lean on the past, revel in the present, and create a vision for the future. Black history is every day, so we plan to celebrate it every day. And, with your help, we can make this an even bigger celebration. 

Are you a Black Creative?

Then keep an eye out for opportunities to have your work featured here on @blackexcellence, as well as other official blogs such as @art, @music, @fashion, @entertainment, @books, @gaming, @kpop, or @staff. You can also tag your work #BlackExcellence365 to help us find it.

Before you go

Don’t forget to follow the #black history month tag to see what the Tumblr community is creating. 

This is #BlackExcellence365. Stay tuned ✊🏿✊🏾✊🏽!