Vampire Diaries Imagines

Anchor in the Storm - Jeremy Gilbert

The night was quiet in Mystic Falls, a little too quiet for Jeremy's liking. He stood outside the Y/L/N family cabin, his breath clouding in the crisp November air. It was a place that he spent a good amount of time at. A place of wholesome stories and laughter. Thought, not it was very solemn and silent. He held a thermos of hot chocolate in one hand, a small bag slung over his shoulder. Inside, he could see the faint glow of a single lamp. Y/N was home, but she hadn't answered his calls all day.

After her grandmother's funeral the day before, Y/N/N had retreated into the cabin and stayed to herself, and Jeremy knew that place all too well. He'd been there after his parents' death. He remembered Y/N/N showing up at his door uninvited back then, a mix of sass and sincerity in her Y/E/C eyes as she sat beside him and simply stayed, being the support he needed even though he didn't think as much at the time. The Gilbert boy mentally thanked her every day for that simple act.

Now, it was his turn.

Jeremy knocked lightly and waited, his heart sinking when there was no response. He knocked again, firmer this time. A shuffle of footsteps, and then the door creaked open. Y/N's eyes peeked through the crack, red-rimmed and glassy.

"Jer? What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

He gave her a soft smile. "Checking on you. Can I come in?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment before opening the door wider. The dark-haired boy stepped inside, noting the way the house felt colder, and emptier. Her grandmother's absence was palpable. The young girl wrapped her arms around herself, retreating to the couch where a blanket and a box of tissues sat. It was more than obvious she hadn't much moved from that spot since returning home. Jeremy placed the thermos on the coffee table and joined her.

"I brought hot chocolate," he said, unslinging the bag. "And snacks. Thought we could have one of our movie nights. You know, like old times."

Y/N/N gave him a weak smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Jeremy... I'm not really in the mood."

"I get that," he said gently. "But I also know you. You're going to sit here and think about her until it feels like the world's collapsing. And I'm not going to let you go through that alone."

She looked at him then, her expression crumbling. "She was all I had, Jer. My whole world. And now... now she's gone."

Jeremy leaned closer, his hand finding hers. "I know it feels like that now, and it's okay to feel it. But you're not alone, Y/N/N. You have me. You'll always have me."

Her lip trembled, and before she could stop herself, she broke into tears. Jeremy didn't hesitate, pulling her into his arms and holding her as she sobbed into his shoulder. He whispered soothing words, stroking her hair the way she had done for him years ago when he was drowning in his own grief.

After a while, her sobs subsided, replaced by the steady rhythm of her breathing. She pulled back slightly, wiping at her face. "Sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean to fall apart on you."

"Don't apologize," Jeremy said firmly. "You were there for me when I needed someone. Let me be here for you now."

Y/N nodded, her eyes meeting his. For the first time since her grandmother's passing, she felt a glimmer of something other than sadness-a warmth she hadn't thought possible, at least not at the time.

"Okay," she said softly. "But only if we watch something cheesy."

Jeremy grinned, reaching into the bag to pull out a DVD. "Clueless or 10 Things I Hate About You?"

She laughed weakly, and the sound was music to his ears. "Definitely 10 Things."

As the movie played, Jeremy kept his arm draped around her, their shared warmth a quiet reminder that even in the darkest moments, they still had each other.

For Y/N, the storm of grief was far from over, but with Jeremy by her side, she knew she wouldn't have to face it alone. And for Jeremy, helping her heal felt like coming full circle, a chance to give back the same unconditional kindness and love she had once shown him.

In their shared silence, there was an unspoken promise: no matter what storms came their way, they would always be each other's anchor.