Multifandom X Reader Stories

Finally Yours (Eric Coulter)

The after-party for the initiates' final ranking ceremony is wild, loud, and filled with a kind of electric energy only found in Dauntless. Bodies move to the beat, drinks are passed around, and laughter and cheers echo through the compound. I stand among my fellow initiates—no, my fellow Dauntless members now. A strange mix of pride and relief fills me. I made it. I'm finally Dauntless.

I feel a familiar set of eyes on me, watching. Eric's gaze is intense, locked on me from across the room. We'd been playing a dangerous game throughout initiation, keeping our connection quiet, letting stolen glances and lingering touches speak the words we couldn't. As an initiate and him being my instructor, neither of us could afford to show how we felt, not openly. But now, with initiation over and ranks finalized, there's no one left to stop him.

Before I know it, he's crossing the room, his presence parting the crowd as he walks. He stops in front of me, his gaze sharp, possessive. Without a word, his hand slides around my waist, pulling me close, his grip firm but familiar. He's staking a claim, showing everyone who I belong to now. And by the look in his eyes, he doesn't intend to let anyone forget it.

He leans down, his lips close to my ear. "You're finally mine," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

A smirk tugs at my lips, and I tilt my chin up to meet his gaze. "Took you long enough," I say, trying to keep my tone playful despite the flutter in my chest.

Eric's eyes darken, his hand on my waist tightening slightly. "I had to wait until you earned it." There's a hint of pride in his tone, pride for what I accomplished. "And now, no one else gets to look at you. Not if they want to keep their eyes."

The way he says it is casual, like a simple fact, but the heat in his gaze leaves no room for doubt. And true to his word, he doesn't let anyone come near. Throughout the night, I feel his protective hold around me. If someone so much as glances in my direction, Eric's glare is enough to send them scurrying. It's like he's daring anyone to come close, to try and take me from him.

At one point, he pulls me onto his lap as he sits on one of the lounge chairs, his arms wrapped securely around me. The entire room might as well not exist as far as he's concerned. His focus is solely on me, his hands tracing patterns on my back, his fingers leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. I lean into him, letting the steady beat of his heart calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

Eventually, the party starts to wind down, and Eric leads me away from the crowd, guiding me down the halls with a hand on the small of my back. We end up at the tattoo parlor, a grin spreading across his face as he looks at me. "You're Dauntless now," he says. "You should have a mark to show for it."

The idea makes something twist in my chest—an excitement, a thrill. I've always wanted a tattoo, something to make me feel truly part of Dauntless. And now, with Eric by my side, it feels like the perfect time.

He gestures for me to sit on the tattoo chair, and I comply, feeling his eyes on me as I settle in. The needle and ink sit nearby, and Eric picks them up, surprising me. "You're doing it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

He smirks, moving closer. "You trust me, don't you?"

His tone is teasing, but there's a sincerity in his gaze that catches me off guard. I nod, and he starts the process, his hands careful and surprisingly gentle as he works. The pain is sharp, but I grit my teeth, refusing to flinch.

Eric notices my determination and chuckles softly, his voice a low rumble. "Tough, aren't you?"

I meet his gaze, refusing to let him see any hint of weakness. "I can handle it."

"Good," he murmurs, his eyes lingering on mine before returning to his work.

His touch is surprisingly tender, his fingers brushing against my skin in a way that's almost reverent. Every now and then, he'll pause, his thumb ghosting over my skin as if to soothe any discomfort. It's a side of him I haven't seen before, a gentleness that contrasts with his usual hard, unyielding demeanor. And it makes my heart race.

When he finishes, he sets down the needle, and I look down at the tattoo—a sleek design that's both bold and intricate, a perfect representation of Dauntless. I can't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride in the mark.

Eric's hand comes up to rest on my shoulder, his gaze intense. "It suits you," he says quietly, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Thank you," I reply, my voice soft as I look up at him, meeting his gaze. For a moment, we just stay like that, our eyes locked, an unspoken connection passing between us.

Over the next few days, Eric is everywhere I go. Whether I'm training, grabbing food, or just walking through the compound, he's always nearby, a steady presence that seems to follow me no matter where I am. And though he doesn't say it, I can feel the protective edge in his gaze, the way he watches over me, almost like he's daring anyone to come too close.

When I point it out one night, he just shrugs. "Can't leave you alone, can I? Someone might get ideas."

"Like you?" I tease, crossing my arms with a smirk.

He steps closer, his hands sliding around my waist as he pulls me against him. "No one else can handle you the way I can," he murmurs, his voice low and possessive.

The days pass in a blur, filled with stolen moments and whispered words. He doesn't just protect me—he encourages me, pushes me to be stronger, to prove that I'm just as fierce and fearless as anyone else in Dauntless. And in those moments, I feel like I truly belong, not just in Dauntless, but with him.

One evening, we're sitting alone by the chasm, the roar of the water below filling the silence. I lean against him, his arm wrapped around me as he holds me close. It's quiet, peaceful, a rare moment of calm in the chaos of Dauntless.

"You know," he says softly, his voice almost thoughtful, "I never thought I'd care about someone like this. But you... you're different."

I glance up at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his gaze. He's always been so guarded, so tough. But right now, he's letting me see a part of him he hides from everyone else.

"Guess I'm just lucky, then," I murmur, resting my head against his shoulder.

He chuckles, a soft, genuine sound that makes my heart swell. "No, I am," he replies, pressing a kiss to my forehead. And in that moment, I know that I am his—wholly, completely. Just as he is mine.