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nana-talks · 17 days ago

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I just found your Kai Parker fic and gorl I need more of your tvd writing IT WAS AMAZING. idek what I'd want for the request ngl but either more tension with Kai or Jeremy Gilbert in his vampire hunting era fr

remind me

Summary: Jeremy's mind is going in every direction and doesn't know how to just be anymore. You ground him back into himself.

Jeremy Gilbert x human!reader

notes/warnings: no warnings really, and idk why i made this a little sad.

WC:1513

The woods behind the Gilbert lake house was still and cold, but the tension threading through Jeremy’s shoulders burned hotter than vervain. You watched from a short distance, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, your boots crunching faintly in the leaves as you stepped closer. He hadn't noticed you yet, he was too busy driving a stake over and over into the cracked bark of a tree, like the wood could bleed answers if he just hit it hard enough.

You didn't say anything right away. He had always carried too much weight for someone his age. Ever since the mark started spreading up his arm, it was like he'd been replaced piece by piece. His voice had sharpened. His focus had narrowed. His smile was gone entirely.

You waited until he paused, chest heaving, arm trembling from the sheer force he was using. “If that tree was a vampire,” you said. “I think it got the message.” he stiffened but didn't look at you. “What are you doing out here?”

“I needed to hit something,” he muttered, yanking the stake from the wood. You stepped closer, close enough now to see the fresh lines inked into his skin, wrapping up his bicep like ivy. They hadn't been there yesterday.

You swallowed. “The mark grew again.”

“Yeah.” his tone was clipped, but there was a tight edge under it, like he hated admitting it aloud. “Elena said there was a couple nearby. Stefan wants to scope it out, but I said no. If I get too far ahead of the mark, I lose control. I… I feel it now.”

You moved slowly, stepping beside him, holding a hoodie you grabbed for him, letting the silence settle. “Feel what?”

“That thing in my head,” he said. “The urge. It's not just about killing vampires. It's about hunting them. Like if I'm not tracking something, I don't know who I am anymore.”

He wasn't looking at you, but his knuckles were white around the stake. You gently reached out and placed your fingers over his hand. It was still trembling.

“You're still Jeremy.” you said quietly.

“You don't know that,” he snapped before his eyes flicked up to yours, wide and apologetic a second later. “I mean…you don't see what I do. When I sleep, I dream about ripping hearts out. I wake up with scratches on my arms. Yesterday I almost put an arrow through Stefan's chest because he came up behind me too fast. I don't even remember pulling the trigger.”

“Then let us help you,” you said. “You don't have to go through this alone.”

He gave a harsh, humorless laugh. “I'm not sure anyone can help. I'm not even a real person anymore. I'm just…this tool. A weapon. And the worst part? Some part of me likes it.”

That cracked something in your chest. Jeremy had always been the boy who wanted to protect everyone, quietly, selflessly. Now he was turning that instinct inward, weaponizing it until it burned him from the inside out.

You tightened your grip on his hand. “You don't get to decide you're not real just because you're hurting. I've known you since before this mark ever showed up. When you could you would pick up your sister's favorite cereal when you go to the store. You still leave your boots by the door so you don't track mud into the house. You still hold the door open for people. And yeah, maybe you're different now, but that doesn't erase who you are.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. Like he hadn't been sure you were real until that moment.

The silence stretched between you. Then, very quietly, he said, “You should stay away from me.”

You didn't move. “I won't.”

“I could hurt you.”

“You won't.”

He pulled his hand back like it burned him and turned away, his voice tight. “You don't know that.”

“I do,” you said. “Because even now, with everything going on in your head, you're still holding yourself back. You're still fighting it.”

He shook his head. “For how long?”

“As long as it takes.”

The wind stirred through the trees. He didn't speak again, but you stayed beside him, and when his hand dropped the stake and reached for yours again, hesitant, unsteady, you laced your fingers through his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Because even if he didn't believe in himself anymore, you did. And you weren't going anywhere.

Jermeys fingers tightened slightly around yours, his palm rough and calloused against your skin. The moment felt like glass, fragile, suspended in quiet tension, waiting for something to shatter it. And something did.

A twig snapped to your right.

He was moving before your mind caught up. In one breath, his arm was around your waist, and in the next, your feet left the ground for a second as he pulled you behind him, placing himself between you and the darkness just beyond the tree line. His eyes had gone sharp, scanning the woods with a kind of feral precision that reminded you this wasn't just Jeremy anymore. This was the hunter.

“Don't move.” he said, voice low, firm. You didn't.

A blur darted past the trees, too fast to follow with human eyes. You caught a flash of someone getting closer, a low snarl that didn't sound entirely human. Jeremy dropped into a fighting stance, the stake already back in his hand like it had never left.

“Come out,” he growled. “I know you're there.”

For a second, nothing moved. Then a figure stepped from the shadows, cocky, tall, with a jagged scar cutting through one cheek. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and he licked his lips as he looked between you and him.

“Well, well,” the vampire purred. “Looks like I found a late-night snack…and the hunter boy himself. Jackpot.”

Jeremy didn't answer. He didn't blink. His breathing slowed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as his muscles coiled.

The vampire lunged.

Jeremy shoved you back without looking, and the world became a blur of movement and chaos. The vampire was fast, faster than Jeremy, but he wasn’t normal anymore. The mark had changed him. He pivoted as the vampire aimed for his throat, ducked, twisted, and drove the stake up toward the ribs. The vampire snarled, teeth catching jeremy's shoulder and tearing through the fabric of his hoodie. Blood bloomed instantly, soaking into the cotton.

He grunted but didn't stop. He rolled with the momentum, getting behind the vampire and kicking out one leg hard enough to send the creature sprawling into the leaves. In the same breath, he was in him again, pinning him with his forearm and raising the stake with his other hand.

“You shouldn't have come here,” he muttered.

Then he drove the stake straight through the vampire's heart.

The body stilled, arched, eyes wide in shock, mouth forming a silent scream, and then the blue, black veins formed, consuming the body that lay still.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then he staggered back, one hand going to his bleeding shoulder. You were already rushing to him.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, grabbing his other arm to steady him. “Let me see-”

“Im fine,” he said quickly, but the wince he failed to hide said otherwise. You peeled back the shredded fabric of his hoodie and winced at the gash underneath.

“That's gonna need stitches.”

“I've had worse.” but his voice softened now, the adrenaline ebbing out of him in waves. He looked at you, eyes searching your face, and this time there was something different behind them. Not just the cold focus of a killer, but something human. Something scared.

“You okay?” he asked. You blinked at him.

“Me? You're the one bleeding.”

He gave a weak, half smile. “Still. I had to make sure.”

Your throat tightened. “You saved my life.”

His smile faded into something more serious. “That's the only thing that feels right anymore. Protecting you.” he shook his head slightly. “Everything else…the hunter stuff, the mark, the voices in my head, it's all noise. But when I saw him wanting to go for you, there wasn't a choice. There was no hesitation.”

Your chest ached. “Because youre still jermey.”

He didn't speak. Instead, his hand found yours again, stained with blood. You held on, grounding him, anchoring him to something real, something steady.

“Let's get you stitched up.” you said gently.

He nodded, and as you started walking back through the woods together, his arms brushing yours, body warm despite the cold, you realized that no matter how much darkness the hunters mark carved into him, you would be there to remind him of the light. And he would fight to protect it. Every time.

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nana-talks · 29 days ago

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RUIN jeremy gilbert x reader

summary!: Jeremy Gilbert has always been a walking tragedy, blood on his hands, ghosts in his lungs. When he disappears into the woods for another reckless hunt, you go after him, even knowing how often he tries to push you away. But under the moonlight and soaked in violence, something breaks between you both. What begins as an argument spirals into something raw, desperate, and real, something that might finally make him want to live.

Pairing: hunter!jeremygilbert x femalehuman!reader

Trope: hurt/comfort, friends-to-something-more, mutual pining, emotionally repressed idiot x the only person who sees him

Genre: slight angst, action, smut, emotional intensity

Note: based on this request <3

Word count: 2.6k

fic warnings!: violence, blood (non-sexual), canon trauma, grief, guilt, emotional repression, semi-public setting, strong language, mental health themes (self-worth, death wish implication)

smut warnings!: oral sex (m&f), rough sex against a tree, dom!jeremy, light choking (consensual), hair pulling, dirty talk praise/degradation, overstimulation, semi-public sex, emotional breakdown sex, jeremy being feral and a little unhinged.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The woods feel different tonight.

You notice it the second your boots crunch down on the mossy underbrush, branches whispering like they know something you don’t. The air is thick, humid in that Southern, late-summer way, but beneath the heat, there’s something colder. Something wrong.

Terribly wrong.

You push forward anyway, your flashlight slicing through the darkness in a narrow beam. The grip of your blade is still warm in your hand from the last time you used it. Not on a vampire, not tonight, but the way Mystic Falls has been lately, you know it’s only a matter of time.

And you know he’s out here.

Jeremy Gilbert.

Vampire hunter.

Walking trauma magnet.

Elena’s little brother, but only in name these days. There’s nothing little or soft about him anymore, not since he came back from the dead with darkness etched behind his eyes. Not since the hunter’s mark burned itself across his skin like a brand.

You haven’t seen him since yesterday, when he’d muttered something vague about “tracking movement east of the Falls” and disappeared before you could make him promise not to do anything stupid. Again. Typical Jeremy.

Now it’s past midnight. You’ve called him twice. Texted four times. Silence.

So you come looking.

The smell hits you before anything else, metallic, thick.

Before all of this, before you knew of the supernatural, when you thought your life was simple and normal, you never knew how poignant the smell of blood could be.

You also never knew how often that smell would linger around you.

More Jeremy than you, actually. Since he himself says that everyone keeps dying on him.

Everyone but you, you want to tell him. But every time you try to get close to him, to show that you care, he pushes you away. Like he hates you, or worse, hates the thought of losing you.

That smell again.

Blood.

It weaves through the night like a warning. You slow your steps, muscles tensing, and flick the flashlight off. Your human ears do the rest. A sharp crack in the distance. A grunt. Something heavy hitting the ground.

You know how stupid you look. A human, alone in the woods with nothing but a mere flashlight, surrounded by a sea of trees, trapped in a town full of anything a nightmare would dream of.

But you're here for Jeremy, you remind yourself.

You move faster.

The clearing appears suddenly, like the trees just give up trying to keep you out. You step through the last wall of brush and freeze.

He’s there.

Jeremy’s crouched low beside a fallen body, chest heaving, shirt soaked through with sweat and crimson streaks that you hope aren’t his. One hand grips the handle of a bloodied stake buried in what used to be a vampire’s heart. The other shakes slightly as he yanks it free.

“Jeremy,” you breathe.

His head snaps up. His eyes, wild, dark, not right, lock onto yours. You see the moment he registers you. The way his entire body tenses like you’re another threat. Then, slowly, the tension drains from his shoulders, replaced by something worse: exhaustion.

Resignation.

He stands, legs unsteady, and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “What are you doing out here?”

His voice is rougher than usual, like he hasn’t spoken in hours. It scrapes against your nerves.

You step closer. “I could ask you the same thing. You went dark. Again.”

“I had it handled.”

You scoff, gesturing to the body. “Yeah, clearly.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he turns away, grabbing his bag off the ground and slinging it over his shoulder. You catch the wince he tries to hide and immediately move to his side.

“Jeremy, stop.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“You always say that,” you snap, grabbing his arm.

His muscles go rigid beneath your fingers. For a second, he doesn’t move. Just stands there, breathing hard, like he’s deciding whether to shake you off or let himself crumble.

You look at him, really look at him, and your heart sinks.

There’s a shallow gash running along his ribs, tearing through the side of his shirt and leaking blood in a steady trail down his hip. His knuckles are split, crusted in red. There’s a bruise forming on his cheekbone, angry and violet beneath the moonlight. But it’s not the physical damage that gets to you. It’s his eyes.

There’s a storm behind them.

“You could’ve died out here,” you say quietly.

He laughs. It's humorless. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Jeremy.”

“I said I had it under control.”

“No,” you bite out, stepping in front of him. “You never have it under control. You throw yourself into these hunts like you’re trying to get killed. Like maybe you think you should.”

The words hang between you like fog, heavy and cold.

He finally looks at you. Really looks at you. His eyes soften just enough to make your stomach twist.

“I’m not trying to die,” he says, voice low. “I’m trying to make it mean something.”

You shake your head, tears stinging hot behind your eyes. “And what happens when it’s not enough? When your death doesn’t fix anything? What do we do when Elena finds your dead body? What do we do then, Jeremy?”

His silence is the only answer he gives you.

And it hurts, how much he doesn’t say. How much he carries in that quiet suffering he thinks no one sees. But you do. You’ve always seen it.

Without thinking, you reach out and press your hand against his chest, right over the place his heart thuds beneath the blood-soaked cotton. His breath catches.

“I came out here because I care about you,” you say, voice shaking. “Because if something happened to you, I’d—”

“Don’t,” he cuts in, harsh. But his hand comes up to wrap around your wrist, holding it against him. Like he needs the contact more than he wants to admit. “Don’t say that. Not unless you mean it.”

“I do.”

You don’t even blink when you say it. Because it’s the truth. Every word.

For a long moment, there’s only the sound of crickets, wind in the trees, your ragged breathing.

Then, something breaks in him.

His mouth is on yours before you can speak again, hot, urgent, messy. There’s blood on his lips, but you don’t care. You taste sweat and desperation and something that feels dangerously close to grief. His hands are rough when they grab your hips, pull you closer. Yours find the back of his neck, fingers tangling in damp hair.

It’s not soft. It’s not gentle. But it’s real.

And you think: maybe this is what he needs. What you need. Just for tonight.

A reason to stay breathing.

You don't know who moves first.

One second, you're clinging to the shattered breath between you, and the next, he's slamming you back into the nearest tree with a grunt, mouth crashing into yours like he’s starved for it, like he’s starved for you. The bark digs into your spine, rough and grounding, a painful contrast to the way Jeremy's lips part yours so easily, so desperately.

His hands roam your body with none of the caution he used to show, no hesitation, no asking. Just need, pouring out of him like blood from a wound. One hand fists in your shirt, dragging you closer like he wants to merge you with him, like proximity is the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

You kiss him back harder.

Fingers in his hair. Nails scraping against the back of his neck. You don’t care about the dirt under your boots or the blood on his skin. You don’t care that the woods are silent now, like even the night is holding its breath.

All you care about is this.

Jeremy groans low into your mouth when you bite his bottom lip, not enough to hurt, just enough to make him feel it. His grip tightens on your waist, and then he’s dragging his mouth down your jaw, your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point like instinct. Like he can smell how fast it’s beating.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he growls against your skin, voice dark and low. “I told you to stay away.”

You let your head fall back, exposing your neck to him. “You knew I’d come anyway.”

He presses his forehead against your collarbone, breathing you in, hands trembling where they grip your hips. “You don’t get it,” he whispers. “I can’t be gentle right now. I don’t have that in me.”

“Then don’t be.”

That’s all it takes.

He groans like the words physically crack him open. Then he’s turning you, pressing your chest to the tree, his body molding to your back. His hands slide beneath your shirt, rough palms skating over your skin. The scrape of his calluses makes you gasp. Every touch is urgent, like he's making sure you're real. That you’re here. That he hasn’t lost you, too.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes against your ear, one hand splayed across your stomach, the other creeping up to your chest.

You reach behind you, grab a fistful of his hair, and yank him closer. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

His laugh is dark, wrecked. And then he’s kissing down your neck again, tongue dragging slow and hot over the shell of your ear before he sinks his teeth, not fangs, just teeth, into your shoulder. Enough to make you shudder.

Clothes come off in frantic pieces. He helps when he can, but mostly he just watches, chest heaving, blood still drying in streaks across his skin. His hunter's mark is partly visible now, twisting over his ribs, and you trace it with your fingers as you turn to face him again.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, because he is. Even like this. Especially like this.

He exhales sharply like it hurts to hear. “You shouldn’t say shit like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you do… I won’t let you go.”

You step in, lips ghosting over his, and whisper, “Then don’t.”

And he doesn’t.

Your back hits the tree again, and this time, it hurts, but you don’t care. Not when Jeremy’s hands are on you like this. Not when he kisses you like he needs you to breathe. His tongue pushes into your mouth, desperate, demanding, and you give it all, your breath, your moan, your goddamn sanity.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t want this,” he pants against your jaw, dragging his lips down your throat. “Not like this. Not with you.”

You grab a fistful of his bloody shirt and yank him closer. “Then stop thinking.”

He growls, growls, low and wrecked, and that’s all the warning you get before he drops to his knees in the dirt and shoves your pants down in one rough motion. You hiss when the night air hits your skin, but then his hands are on your thighs, forcing you open, and his mouth—

Holy fuck.

Jeremy licks into you like he’s trying to erase the memory of everything else. He groans when he tastes you, low and guttural, grinding into the ground like he needs the friction. His tongue moves in rough, hungry strokes, sloppy, dirty, filthy, like this isn’t something sweet, like it’s survival.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, hips rocking into his face.

“Jeremy,” you gasp. “Jesus—”

“Say my name again,” he mutters against your cunt, voice ruined. “Say it like I’m the only thing keeping you alive.”

You do. Over and over again. Because right now, he is.

Your orgasm rips through you like a lightning strike, fast and furious, and you try to push him away, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t fucking stop. His arms lock around your thighs and he eats you through it, through the shaking, through the oversensitivity, until you’re begging, gasping out broken pleas he ignores with a moan of his own.

You come again on his tongue, thighs trembling against his ears. He finally pulls back, lips slick, jaw clenched like he’s in pain.

“Fuck,” he says again, voice rough. “Get on your knees.”

You drop without hesitation.

Your hands work open his belt, his jeans, and his cock springs free, hard, flushed, dripping. You look up at him through your lashes and his whole body shudders.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that,” he snaps, voice ragged. “I’ll come before you even touch me.”

You smile, slow and wicked. “That’s not very hunter-like of you.”

He grabs your jaw, not hard, but firm, and tilts your head back. His thumb presses against your lower lip, smearing your spit. “Open your mouth.”

You do.

And when he slides his cock in, it’s like every restraint he had left shatters.

Jeremy fucks your mouth slowly at first, watching your eyes water, your lips stretch around him. His hand stays tight in your hair, keeping you in place. “So fucking pretty like this. On your knees. Taking me like you were made for it.”

You moan around him, because it’s true. You want this. You want him.

He fucks into your mouth harder now, breathing harsh, sweat dripping from his brow. And just when you think he’s about to come, he pulls out with a curse and hauls you to your feet like you weigh nothing.

“You want it rough?” he asks, voice barely human. “You want me to ruin you out here where anyone could see?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Jeremy, please.”

That’s it.

He turns you around, bends you over against the tree, and shoves himself into you with one brutal thrust. You cry out, nails scraping the bark, and he just grunts, hips snapping against yours with raw, savage force.

Every thrust punches a moan out of you.

Every drag of his cock feels like punishment and reward all at once.

“You think I don’t see it?” he growls in your ear. “The way you look at me. Like I’m not broken. Like I’m something worth saving.”

“You are,” you choke out.

He grabs your throat, lightly, just enough pressure to make your breath catch. “No. I’m not. But I’ll keep you safe. Even if it kills me.”

You don’t know if it’s the sex or the confession or the fact that he’s holding you like you matter, but the orgasm that hits you next tears through your entire body. You scream, full-on scream, and Jeremy shudders as your walls clamp down around him.

He buries himself deep and groans your name as he comes, hard, hips jerking, body shaking like he’s losing it. Like you are the thing anchoring him back to life.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, harsh and tangled. The forest is still again.

He pulls out slowly, careful now, and helps you turn to face him. You’re still trembling, but he gathers you close, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to be… like that.”

You smile faintly, brushing a hand down his cheek. “I wanted it. I want you.”

He closes his eyes like that hurts more than anything.

You help each other get dressed in silence, limbs slow, sore. But not awkward. Not ashamed. There’s something tender in it. Something almost... hopeful.

When he threads his fingers through yours on the walk back, you don’t let go.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Back at the Gilbert house, the lights are off. Elena’s asleep. The world hasn’t stopped, but for once, it’s quiet.

Jeremy walks you to the door. His thumb brushes your knuckles.

“You’re coming back tomorrow, right?” he asks, voice soft.

You lean up, kiss the corner of his mouth. “You couldn’t keep me away if you tried.”

And for the first time in days, Jeremy Gilbert smiles.

Really smiles.

Like maybe, just maybe, he believes he still has something left to live for.

a/n: this makes me want to write a historical vampire!au with anyone lmao

#im rewatching tvd if you couldnt tell #and i Love jer

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