Chloe!

ಇ autistic • she/her • creative writer ಇ

[northmansvamp]

Wolfblood::

~ Lone Wolf ~

Maddy and I were snuggled up on the couch a blanket around us, with Kiva in between us while Bear was on my lap watching movies and eating junk food then I heard a noise and looked at Maddy as Kiva and Bear lifted their head. "Did you hear that?" I asked her as she shook her head no. I paused the movie that we were watching before we heard another rattling noise. "Kia, Bear, stay here." I said to them as they laid back down. We both got up from the couch putting on our shoes, then went outside to investigate the noise.

We heard another noise and walked to the other side of our house, to see the garbage bins being knocked over as all the rubbish went on the floor. We heard more noises then we saw a wolf eating days old chicken, and the other one trying to escape from the cellar.

We moved into the area, the wolf looks up at us.

"Get back inside!!" Maddy yells at the wolf who looks up at us growling.

Maddy and I walked forward but the wolf starts growling at us again. I go one way and Maddy goes the other, to stop the wolf from escaping and to herd it back to the cellar. The wolf starts backing up then growls at us again, our eyes changed to a blue and yellow colour as we growled at the wolf. The wolf starts whimpering and walks backwards falling back into the cellar. We get close to the hole and see the wolf backing away, the other jumps at us growling.

Maddy takes off her shoe, hits the wolf on the snout then drops the shoe. I closed the cellar doors and placed at metal pipe between the handles to keep them shut. We both looked up at the full moon and heard wolves howling. Maddy and I started picking up the rubbish that was on the ground, went back inside because we had school tomorrow. Great!!!!

It was morning, a quiet yawn escaped from my lips as I awoke from my deep slumber. I finally forced myself to get up, stretching my arms over my head as I get out of bed, then went downstairs to feed the dogs and to let them outside, after that they jumped on the sofa and settled down. I went upstairs to get my towel before I entered the bathroom to have a warm shower. When I was done, I wrapped myself in my towel and walked barefoot towards my bedroom.

[aetherialmuse]

Could I request a Nathaniel Taylor x reader.

Where the reader gets injured on a mission and she comes back and tries to hide from him but it doesn't work. He notices that the reader is swaying on the spot as he wraps his arms around the reader's waist to steady her. "Are you ok?" He asks the reader but the reader passes out in his arms as her head lolls on his shoulder. He asks takes her to the med bay and waits for her to wake up. Then he tells her that he loves her and they become GF/BF.

You can add the rest

Thank u ☺️

Ps. Just know that ur amazing

Tether

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pairings: Nathaniel Taylor x reader

genre/warnings; hurt/comfort, slow-burn, confession, mission injury

Summary: She tries to disappear before he notices—but Nathaniel has always been the one thing she can’t outrun.

991 words

You know you’re hurt the second it happens, but you don’t stop. The mission isn’t finished, and you’ve never been the kind of person who puts yourself first anyway. The pain sits under your ribs, sharp and hot at first, then dull and spreading, like something slowly sinking deeper the longer you ignore it. You keep moving, keep fighting, keep going until the objective is done and everyone else is clear.

Only then do you let yourself breathe.

And even then, you don’t stop.

By the time you get back to base, your body feels wrong. Too light and too heavy at the same time. Your steps aren’t steady, but you force them to be. One foot in front of the other, head down, don’t draw attention. If you can just make it to your room, you can deal with it yourself. Clean it, wrap it, sleep it off. No one needs to know.

Especially not him.

“Hey.”

Of course.

You almost keep walking, hoping maybe he won’t push it, but that’s not who Nathaniel is. You stop just enough to glance over your shoulder.

“You just get back?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

It’s automatic. Too automatic.

You turn like you’re going to keep walking, but his hand catches your wrist before you get far. It’s not rough, just enough to stop you.

“Since when do you avoid me?” he asks.

“I’m not,” you say, already pulling away. “I’m just tired.”

You take a step, and the world tilts. You don’t even realize you’re swaying until his arms are suddenly around your waist, steadying you before you can lose your balance completely.

“Hey, hold on,” he says, voice tightening. “You’re not fine.”

“I am,” you insist, but it comes out weaker than you mean it to.

His grip shifts slightly, more supportive now, like he’s already preparing for you to fall. “You’re literally swaying. Are you okay?”

You try to answer. You really do. But your head feels too heavy, your vision blurring at the edges, and the words don’t come out right.

“Nate, I—”

Your knees give out.

He catches you instantly, pulling you fully against him as your head drops against his shoulder. You don’t even feel the impact. Everything just… fades.

When you wake up, it’s slow and disorienting. The first thing you notice is the pain—deeper now, sharper because you’re not running on adrenaline anymore. The second thing is the steady beeping of a monitor. The third is Nathaniel.

He’s sitting right next to your bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, like he hasn’t moved in hours. His head lifts the second you make any noise.

“Hey,” he says, immediately straightening. “Easy. Don’t try to sit up yet.”

You blink at him, trying to focus. “How long…?”

“A while,” he says. “You passed out on me.”

You wince slightly. “Sorry.”

His expression tightens. “Don’t apologize for that.”

You look away, suddenly feeling a lot more exposed than you did before. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“You had a gunshot wound,” he says flatly. “That you tried to ignore.”

You don’t respond to that.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I was going to handle it,” you say quietly.

“You almost didn’t make it to the med bay,” he counters.

You swallow. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

That gets his attention.

He looks at you like you just said something completely unbelievable. “You didn’t want me to worry.”

You nod slightly.

He lets out a short, frustrated breath. “You don’t get to decide that.”

You frown. “What?”

“You don’t get to decide whether I care enough to worry,” he says, voice quieter now but more intense. “You don’t get to just walk in here bleeding out and act like it’s nothing.”

“I didn’t think it mattered that much,” you admit, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

There’s a pause, but not the drawn-out kind. Just enough for him to process what you said.

Then his expression changes completely.

“Don’t say that,” he says.

You glance back at him, confused. “Why?”

“Because it’s not true,” he replies immediately. “You matter. More than you seem to think you do.”

You don’t know what to do with that, so you look away again.

He shifts closer, his hand coming up to rest carefully over yours on the bed. It’s warm, grounding, impossible to ignore.

“I love you,” he says.

It’s straightforward. No buildup, no hesitation.

You look back at him, stunned. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “I have for a while. I just didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you wanted that, and I didn’t want to mess up what we already had. But seeing you like that…” He shakes his head slightly. “I can’t pretend it doesn’t matter. You matter to me. A lot.”

Your chest tightens, and this time it has nothing to do with the injury.

“I didn’t think you felt that way,” you admit.

“Yeah, I figured,” he says, a little softer. “You’re not exactly easy to read when it comes to this stuff.”

You huff a weak laugh. “That’s fair.”

He gives a small smile, then squeezes your hand lightly. “You don’t have to hide things from me. Not this. Not anything.”

You look at your joined hands, then back at him.

“I love you too,” you say.

The relief on his face is immediate. Not dramatic, just real. Like something that’s been sitting heavy finally lifted.

“Good,” he says quietly.

You smile a little. “Good?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Because I’m not letting you do that again.”

“Get shot?”

“Get hurt and try to deal with it alone,” he corrects.

You consider that, then nod slightly. “Okay. Deal.”

He leans back in his chair, still holding your hand like he has no intention of letting go anytime soon.

Taglist -> @barnes70stark @adrienneleclerc @groovy-lady @agaypurpletoaster

[thequeenofneverland1]

Elijah Mikaelson////Eclipsed Emotions

Anonymous request: Hi could I request a Elijah Mikaelson and Gilbert!Reader (bf/gf)

Where the reader is a vampire and is Elena's oldest sister. She finds out that her family has died so she turns off her humanity and kills people for fun but her boyfriend Elijah (s2) gets very worried about her so he goes to the gang and asks them to help him find his gf before things gets worse. They go out and look for her until they find her about the kill an innocent person. "Baby!!! What are you doing!!" Elijah shouts at her which causes the reader to stop and look round to see Damon, Elijah, Stefan, Elena and Bonnie standing there looking at her worryingly.”How did you find me??" She asks angry before she could attack them Bonnie does a spell which causes the reader to pass out but Elijah catches her before she collides with the fall then carries her back to the Salvatore house and placed her gently on the bed in the cell and waits outside before she wakes up and tries to get her humanity back.You can add the rest

Thank u

Ps. I hope this isn't to confusing for you

(She has red streaks in her hair)

Warnings: Grief and Loss, Violence, Dark Themes, Character death, Abuse, Vampire Lore, Mature Content

You’re helping your Aunt Jenna prepare dinner—chopping vegetables while she stirs something on the stove. The kitchen smells like rosemary and garlic, and there’s a comforting hum of music playing in the background. You’re both in your aprons, bumping elbows playfully as you move around the kitchen.

Suddenly, Elena walks in, phone in hand and a hopeful smile on her face.

“Hey,” she says, leaning against the counter. “Is it okay if I hang out with Bonnie and Caroline after dinner?”

You glance up from your cutting board, nodding. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

Jenna, without missing a beat, also says, “Sure, sweetie.”

Then, slowly, you and Jenna turn your heads at the same time and stare at each other.

“She was talking to me,” Jenna says, raising an eyebrow, a hint of smugness in her voice.

Your jaw drops slightly as you wipe your hands on a dish towel. “Nooo, Auntie. She was talking to me.”

Jenna puts a hand on her hip. “I’m the adult in the house. I think she knows who she needs permission from.”

You scoff dramatically. “I’m her older sister, thank you very much. Which means I’m practically her second mom.”

“Practically doesn’t count,” Jenna says, rolling her eyes. “I actually pay the bills here.”

You gasp. “Wow. You went there? Really? We’re pulling out financial receipts now?”

Jenna smirks. “Don’t test me, I’ve got spreadsheets.”

Elena groans from the corner. “Oh my god, both of you yes, I asked both of you. Can I please go?”

You and Jenna look at each other again, this time laughing.

You put an arm around Elena’s shoulder. “Yeah, go. Have fun. But if you stay out too late, I’m calling Bonnie’s mom.”

“And I’m texting Caroline’s,” Jenna adds with a grin.

Elena just rolls her eyes and walks away, muttering, “You two are literally the same person.”

You and Jenna glance at each other again, then say at the exact same time, “No.”

And then burst into laughter.

You and Aunt Jenna are standing at the sink together, shoulder to shoulder, sleeves rolled up as the warm water runs and the scent of lemon soap fills the air. The clinking of dishes and soft hum of crickets through the open window make the moment feel cozy, almost like the old days before everything got complicated.

Jenna hands you a soapy plate, and you rinse it off, placing it in the drying rack. There’s a peaceful silence for a few minutes before she speaks.

“So…” she says casually, but there’s a knowing glint in her eye, “how’s your relationship going with Elijah?”

You glance at her with a soft smile, a faint blush rising to your cheeks as you rinse off the next dish. “It’s going good,” you say honestly. “He’s… he’s really sweet. A complete gentleman. Despite him being a Mikaelson, I can’t hate him or his family. I’ve tried, trust me.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “But they’re the ones that saved my life, Jenna. I would’ve been dead if they hadn’t been there.”

Jenna stops scrubbing for a moment and looks over at you, her smile tinged with both relief and guilt. “I’m glad that he’s treating you well,” she says quietly. “That’s always been my main concern your happiness, your safety. I mean… I can’t lie, it’s still weird for me sometimes. The whole vampire thing. And part of me—” she swallows hard, “part of me can’t help but blame myself.”

You stop rinsing and look at her, confused. “Blame yourself?”

She nods slowly. “Yeah. I was supposed to protect you. I was supposed to make sure nothing happened to you and Elena. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t know the world we were walking into when we moved here. And then… it just happened so fast. You turned. And I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t enough.”

You frown, stepping closer to her and wiping your hands on a towel. “Jenna, no. Don’t do that to yourself. None of us were prepared for what this town had hidden underneath. You were thrown into all of it just like we were. But you still stepped up. You stayed. You fought for us. You loved us.” Your voice softens. “And honestly, if I hadn’t turned… I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have met Elijah. I wouldn’t have found this new part of myself.”

Jenna looks down at the sink, lips pressed together, emotions swimming in her eyes.

“I know it’s not the life you imagined for me,” you continue gently. “But… it’s my life now. And weirdly enough, I’m okay with that. Elijah makes it easier. He reminds me I can still have love, even with all the darkness that comes with what we are.”

Jenna finally smiles again, this time fuller, more sincere. “You really love him, don’t you?”

You nod, heart full. “I do. He sees me not just the vampire part. Me.”

Jenna reaches out and cups your cheek, her thumb brushing a small bit of soap from your face. “Then that’s all I care about. Not that he’s a Mikaelson. Not that you’ve changed. Just that you’re still you… and you’re loved.”

You smile, eyes glistening, and whisper, “Thanks, Auntie.”

She grins. “Now, if he ever breaks your heart… I will stake him. Just so we’re clear.”

You laugh out loud. “Noted. I’ll warn him.”

You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, a towel draped over your shoulders, your hair parted in uneven sections, and a box of red hair dye sitting open on the counter. You’re squinting in concentration, trying to paint the strands evenly with the little brush it came with, but it’s already looking like a crime scene. There’s dye on the sink, some on your ear, and even a red streak suspiciously close to your jawline.

You’re halfway through your second section when Aunt Jenna appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed and an amused smirk on her face.

“What in the world are you doing?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

You freeze for a second, then glance at her through the mirror, your expression sheepish but determined. “Trying to do red streaks in my hair,” you reply, holding up the dye brush like it’s a magic wand.

Jenna walks in, surveying the chaos red stains splattered on the counter, gloves thrown carelessly to the side, and one section of your hair looking more pink than red. She stares for a beat, then lifts an eyebrow again. “Uh-huh. And are you also trying to dye your neck, both elbows, and my brand new white walls in the process?”

You look down and gasp when you notice a faint red handprint on the cabinet. “Oops.”

Jenna lets out a laugh and shakes her head. “Move over, Picasso. Let me help you before you turn this bathroom into a murder scene.”

You groan playfully but make space for her. “I was doing okay!”

She grabs a pair of gloves and clips your hair up in cleaner sections. “No offense, but your ‘okay’ was about five minutes away from dyeing the dog if he walked past you.”

You both laugh as she starts applying the dye more precisely. Her hands are steady and practiced, and you can’t help but smile, watching her through the mirror.

“You know,” she says while brushing another section, “red’s a bold choice. Trying to send a message?”

You shrug. “Maybe. I just wanted to feel something different. Be a little edgier.”

Jenna smirks. “Well, mission accomplished. Just don’t go full vampire rebel chic and start piercing everything next.”

You giggle. “No promises.”

She finishes up and wraps the dyed sections in foil, wiping a stray smudge from your forehead. “There. Now just sit still and don’t touch anything red unless you want it to stay that way.”

You nod, then glance over at the bathroom door. “Should we tell Elena not to freak out when she sees me with red streaks?”

Jenna grins. “Let’s not, and just enjoy the reaction.”

You both burst into laughter, and as the dye sets, it feels less like a makeover and more like a memory you’ll always keep.

The next morning, the house is quiet sunlight pours through the kitchen windows, casting a golden glow over the countertops. You’re sitting at the table with Aunt Jenna, both of you still in your pajamas, sipping hot coffee and sharing slices of leftover chocolate cake from the night before. Your freshly dyed red streaks are still damp and pulled back into a low bun, and you can smell the faint chemical scent of the dye even over the aroma of brewed coffee and sugar.

You’re laughing about something Jenna just said probably another joke about how you almost dyed your eyebrows red when Elena walks into the kitchen, still half-asleep and rubbing her eyes. She’s in sweats, hair tied up in a lazy bun, and she’s clearly not expecting anything out of the ordinary.

Until she sees you.

She freezes mid-step, eyes squinting as they land on your head. Her brows furrow slowly, like her brain is still buffering what she’s seeing. Then she blurts, “Wait… is that blood on your hair?”

You choke on your coffee mid-sip and start coughing while Aunt Jenna bursts out laughing behind her mug.

You hold up your hand and wave it dismissively. “No, Elena, relax, it’s just hair dye.”

She blinks. “It looks like blood. Like, freshly spilled, just-off-the-victim’s-neck kind of blood.”

Jenna sets her mug down, barely suppressing her smirk. “You should’ve seen the bathroom,” she says, eyes twinkling with amusement. “CSI would’ve taped off the whole area and brought in a forensics team.”

You roll your eyes. “It was not that bad!”

Jenna snorts. “You got dye on the walls, the mirror, your chin, and I’m pretty sure the towel rack has a permanent red streak now. You basically reenacted a vampire attack in there.”

Elena walks over and leans in, inspecting your hair closer. “Okay… fine. It does look kind of cool. But for real, I thought you snapped and went full bloodlust before breakfast.”

You smile, pleased with the reaction. “It’s supposed to be edgy. You know, mysterious but cute.”

Jenna raises an eyebrow. “More like chaotic but charming.”

You nudge her playfully with your elbow, and she laughs again, reaching for another bite of cake.

Elena shakes her head, heading to the fridge. “I swear, every day in this house feels like a deleted scene from a vampire sitcom.”

You lean back in your chair and grin. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Jenna lifts her coffee cup and clinks it lightly against yours. “To red streaks, ruined towels, and mild heart attacks before noon.”

You both laugh, and Elena groans into the fridge, muttering, “I’m moving in with Bonnie.”

It’s late afternoon, and your room is filled with soft golden light filtering in through the curtains. You’re curled up on your bed, wrapped in Elijah’s arms, his fingers gently tracing lazy circles along your shoulder as your head rests on his chest. He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then finally your lips slow, soft, and lingering.

You giggle quietly as his hand brushes along your waist. “You’re such a sap when you’re like this.”

Elijah smirks, his voice smooth and low. “Only for you. Don’t tell Klaus he’ll never let me live it down.”

You’re just about to reply when the door swings open without warning and Aunt Jenna walks in holding a laundry basket. Her eyes immediately land on you two tangled up on the bed, and she halts mid-step.

She sighs dramatically, her head slowly shaking in mock disappointment. “Not in my house,” she says, deadpan.

You freeze, then slowly lift your head from Elijah’s chest, trying not to laugh. “Yes, Captain,” you say, giving a mock salute with a cheeky grin. Elijah chuckles under his breath, clearly trying to keep his composure.

Jenna raises an eyebrow and sets the laundry basket down with a thump. “I gave you a bedroom, not a day spa for vampires.”

You sit up, still nestled close to Elijah, and smirk. “We were just cuddling… and maybe kissing… and barely corrupting your nice clean sheets.”

Jenna shoots you a look. “Barely?”

Elijah clears his throat politely. “If it helps, I can assure you that our intentions were—”

“Don’t.” Jenna holds up a finger, stopping him mid-sentence. “I don’t need a Mikaelson monologue about restraint and Victorian romance right now.”

You laugh and fall back against Elijah’s chest dramatically. “She just doesn’t understand our epic love story.”

Jenna folds a towel and mutters, “I understand that if you two start dry humping again, I’m bringing holy water and garlic next time I walk in here.”

Elijah leans closer to you and whispers, “She’s terrifying.”

You whisper back, “I know. That’s why I love her.”

Jenna points toward the door on her way out. “Keep the door open. I want airflow in this house.”

You and Elijah glance at each other. “Airflow?” you echo.

“And to keep you two from getting ideas.”

She leaves the room, and you both burst into laughter the moment she’s out of earshot. Elijah kisses your forehead again and says, “I adore her.”

You sigh happily. “Me too. Even if she treats us like horny teenagers.”

He smirks. “We are acting like horny teenagers.”

You snuggle closer and grin. “Exactly. It’s kinda fun.”

It’s late well past midnight and the house is silent except for the faint creaking of the wooden floors and the soft rustling of leaves outside your window. Your room is dimly lit by the glow of a small lamp, casting warm shadows on the walls. You’re lying on your bed, hair tousled and cheeks flushed from laughing too much, Elijah resting beside you, fully clothed but relaxed, propped up on one elbow.

“I should go,” he says in that velvet-smooth voice of his, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face.

You pout teasingly. “You could stay a little longer. You’re already halfway scandalous.”

He smiles, but there’s a spark of amusement in his eyes. “If I stay any longer, your aunt will assume we’re eloping. Or worse shopping for cribs.”

You snort. “Fair. And she would give a lecture.”

He places one last, lingering kiss on your forehead before rising from the bed. “Goodnight, my love.”

You whisper, “Goodnight,” and watch as he quietly exits your room, trying not to disturb the creaky floorboards.

As soon as he steps into the dim hallway and walks toward the living room, click the overhead lights suddenly snap on. Elijah freezes mid-step like a well-dressed deer caught in the headlights.

Jenna is standing near the light switch in her robe, arms crossed, face unimpressed but very amused.

“Well,” she says dryly, “at least you had the decency not to sneak out through the window like some sketchy boyfriend in a teen drama.”

Elijah straightens his jacket like he’s in a press conference. “That was never my intention,” he says politely, his tone calm and sincere. “I would never disrespect your household or your niece that way.”

Jenna raises an eyebrow. “Mmm-hmm. I’d believe you more if your tie wasn’t crooked and your hair didn’t look like she ran her fingers through it twelve times.”

Elijah clears his throat and adjusts his tie swiftly. “Force of habit. She was enthusiastic about a discussion on Shakespeare.”

Jenna snorts. “If ‘Shakespeare’ is code for ‘let’s make out until sunrise,’ then yeah, I bet she was.”

He maintains his composure with a tight, dignified smile. “Your niece is a remarkable young woman. I care for her deeply, and I assure you, my intentions are entirely honorable.”

Jenna walks to the kitchen, pours herself a glass of water, then glances back at him. “You do realize I’ve been raising her since she was practically climbing trees in a tutu, right? You don’t need to give me the ‘gentleman’ speech. Just treat her right and don’t give me a reason to keep a vervain dart gun under my pillow.”

Elijah nods with a small bow, the corners of his mouth twitching with restrained amusement. “Understood. Though I must say, if you ever require assistance with vampire defense, I’m at your service.”

Jenna laughs into her water. “Yeah, okay, Vampire James Bond. Just don’t leave your cufflinks in my sofa.”

He moves toward the door but pauses. “Goodnight, Jenna. And thank you for trusting me with her.”

Jenna softens, her expression losing its teasing edge. “Goodnight, Elijah. And… she’s lucky to have you. But don’t make me regret it.”

He nods one last time and steps out the front door, disappearing into the night like the immortal gentleman he is.

Upstairs, you’re peeking through your blinds and smirking as you watch him leave, already knowing your aunt had her “mom-mode” switched on the moment he stepped into the hallway.

You hear her coming back up the stairs and she calls through your door, “I better not find Shakespeare quotes on your ceiling in the morning!”

You shout back, “Too late!” and collapse into laughter under your blanket.

Elijah is seated in one of the armchairs, a book open in his lap, though it’s clear he hasn’t read a word in the last ten minutes. He’s lost in thought his mind still in the warmth of your room, still hearing your laugh and feeling your hand in his.

Rebekah eyes him for a moment, then takes the seat across from him, curling her legs underneath her. “You’ve got that look on your face again.”

Elijah looks up from the book, brow arched. “What look would that be?”

Rebekah smirks. “The lovesick, utterly useless, floating-on-air look you get whenever you’ve just come back from her place.”

Elijah lets out a soft, amused sigh and closes the book. “She makes me feel… human. In ways I haven’t felt in centuries.”

Rebekah swirls the wine in her glass and shrugs. “Well, I don’t like Elena,” she says bluntly, “never have. She’s too judgmental, too self-righteous, and always acts like she’s the moral compass of the universe.”

Elijah raises an eyebrow. “That’s quite a list, sister.”

Rebekah continues without apology. “But Y/n? She’s different. She’s real. She doesn’t pretend to be perfect, and she doesn’t treat us like we’re walking curses. I actually like her. Which is saying a lot.”

He smiles faintly. “That means more than you know.”

She leans forward slightly, her tone shifting into something firmer, darker. “Which is why I’m only going to say this once.”

Elijah tilts his head, sensing the change.

Rebekah’s eyes narrow, and she lowers her voice. “Never. And I mean never think about hurting her. Not emotionally. Not physically. Not accidentally. Not out of some twisted Mikaelson drama or guilt-ridden sacrifice nonsense you always pull.” She points a finger at him, wine glass in the other hand. “Because if you do? You will not be dealing with Klaus. Or Kol. You will be dealing with me.”

Elijah’s expression is unreadable for a moment, but the seriousness in Rebekah’s voice lands like iron.

“I’m not joking, Elijah,” she adds, softer now, but dead serious. “She’s been through enough. If she’s finally found something real with you, then don’t ruin it. Don’t ruin her.”

He nods slowly, a quiet sincerity in his voice. “I would never do anything to hurt her. Not intentionally. She’s become… precious to me.”

Rebekah leans back in her chair, satisfied but still watching him. “Good. Because she deserves a love that won’t destroy her. We all know too well what it’s like to be torn apart by someone you trust.”

He lowers his gaze for a beat, the weight of those words hitting home.

After a long silence, Rebekah sighs, then softens her expression. “Besides… you’re better when you’re with her. Less brooding, more tolerable.”

Elijah chuckles, the tension easing slightly. “High praise.”

She smirks. “Don’t get used to it.”

Rain taps softly against the tall windows, casting shifting shadows across the walls of the study. A fire burns low in the hearth, crackling faintly. Elijah stands near the mantle, hands clasped behind his back, his posture rigid with thought. Klaus sits in an armchair nearby, swirling a glass of bourbon, eyes trained on his older brother, waiting for him to speak.

After a long silence, Elijah finally breaks it, his voice quiet but weighed down by something deeper.

“My love for Y/n…” he begins, pausing as if the words themselves are too much. “It runs so deep that it terrifies me. It’s a kind of vulnerability I haven’t known in centuries. I know she’s strong brilliant, resourceful, capable of protecting herself. But still, I can’t shake the fear… that she’s going to get caught in the crossfire.”

Klaus tilts his glass thoughtfully, taking a slow sip before replying. “You think I’ll involve her.”

Elijah turns, eyes narrowing slightly. “I know you, Niklaus. I know how you think. How you react when you’re cornered, when your back is against the wall. You bring down kingdoms to save yourself. You burn cities if it means escaping your fate. So yes I fear that one day, when the war comes to our doorstep, you won’t hesitate to use her as leverage, or worse… collateral.”

Klaus doesn’t answer immediately. His gaze darkens, and for a moment, the silence between them feels volatile.

“You think I would be so careless as to drag the woman of my own brother into my destruction?” Klaus asks quietly, dangerously.

Elijah meets his eyes with unflinching resolve. “Not because you want to. But because you do, Niklaus. You always do. Our enemies are many witches, werewolves, hunters, the very people we once called family. They know who Y/n is to me. And I know how easily someone like you can forget the cost of your chaos until the damage is already done.”

Klaus rises from his chair, walking slowly toward the fireplace, standing beside Elijah now. His voice softens, but it’s threaded with a rare sincerity.

“You’re right,” he says, staring into the flames. “I have done terrible things. I’ve sacrificed innocents, burned bridges, betrayed those who trusted me. I’ve hurt people to survive even loved ones.”

He turns to face Elijah, and for once, there’s no rage behind his eyes. Only truth.

“But not her,” he says. “Not Y/n. She’s different.”

Elijah watches him closely, as if weighing every syllable.

Klaus continues. “She brings out something in you—something rare. Something good. And despite what everyone believes, I do care about that. About her. She’s not just some girl you’re enamored with. She’s family now. And I don’t destroy the people I care about.”

Elijah sighs, shoulders loosening slightly, but his tone remains steady. “Then prove it. When the time comes when danger is at our door I want your word. You protect her. No matter what. Not because of me, but because she deserves that.”

Klaus nods slowly. “You have my word, brother. I will protect her. Not just for you… but because Y/n is one of the few people in this wretched world who sees the good in us, even when we can’t.”

They stand there for a moment, the silence no longer filled with tension, but something solemn sacred.

You and Aunt Jenna are sitting on the porch, warm mugs of coffee in hand, wrapped in cozy blankets as the early sunlight filters through the trees. Birds are chirping, and there’s a lazy calm in the air no supernatural drama (yet), no urgent text messages, just the quiet buzz of a small town waking up.

You take a long sip of your coffee and lean back in your chair with a sigh. Jenna’s watching you out of the corner of her eye with a suspiciously playful smirk tugging at her lips.

“So…” she begins, dragging out the word.

You narrow your eyes. “What?”

She shrugs, pretending to be casual. “I was just thinking… if you hadn’t fallen in love with Elijah, do you think you would’ve ended up with Klaus? Or…” She raises her brows suggestively. “Damon?”

You nearly choke on your coffee. “Wait, what?!”

Jenna laughs. “Come on! You’ve been around both of them a lot, and don’t act like you haven’t noticed they’re both walking, talking episodes of a guilty-pleasure drama.”

You blink at her, stunned. “That’s… actually a really good question,” you admit slowly, setting your cup down. “I mean, I never really thought about it. Klaus and I have this chaotic history, and Damon he’s like this unpredictable storm with a weird sense of charm… but I don’t know.”

Jenna sips her coffee like she’s the wise oracle of all things romantic. “Mmm-hmm. You don’t know, but I do. It’s Damon.”

You gasp in mock offense. “You think I’d fall for Damon?”

She grins wickedly. “Absolutely. I know you. You’re drawn to that whole tortured-bad-boy thing, whether you admit it or not. Plus, he’s a total hottie.”

You stare at her. “Aunt Jenna!”

She shrugs shamelessly. “What? I’m not blind. The man’s got jawlines for days, and that leather jacket situation? Don’t get me started.”

You groan, covering your face. “Oh my god. You know Elena is going to threaten your life if she hears you talking about him like that.”

Jenna smirks into her mug. “Even if she’s dating Stefan? Please. I’ve seen the way she looks at Damon when she thinks no one’s watching.”

You lower your mug and give her a look. “You are way too observant for your own good.”

Jenna nudges you playfully with her elbow. “Hey, I’m just saying if Elijah hadn’t swooped in with his old-school manners and perfect suits, you might’ve ended up with the dark and brooding Salvatore or the charming, dangerous hybrid.”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Imagine that love triangle. Elijah the gentleman, Damon the reckless flirt, and Klaus the overprotective chaos incarnate.”

Jenna laughs. “It would’ve been messy. But very entertaining.”

You smile, looking off toward the trees. “Thank god I ended up with the one who actually makes me feel like I’m safe… even when the world’s falling apart.”

Jenna’s voice softens. “Yeah. And I can see it in your eyes every time you talk about him. You picked right.”

You glance at her and smile. “But if I ever do find Damon shirtless in my kitchen, just know it wasn’t my fault.”

She winks. “I’ll allow it… as long as I get to stare too.”

It’s late afternoon at the Salvatore house, and you’ve stopped by to drop off a book Stefan lent you something about ancient vampire treaties that you definitely pretended to be interested in just to be polite. You were planning to drop it and leave quietly, but of course, Damon is lounging on the couch like he owns the entire town, a tumbler of bourbon in one hand, that cocky smirk already locked and loaded.

“Well, well,” he drawls as you step into the room. “If it isn’t Elijah’s lovely other half. What brings you to my humble fortress of bad decisions?”

You roll your eyes, placing the book on the table. “Relax. I’m not here to steal your bourbon or borrow your leather jacket.”

Damon grins, sitting up straighter and eyeing you with way too much amusement. “Shame. I was starting to think you missed me.”

You shoot him a deadpan look. “Missed you? Damon, if I wanted endless sarcasm and unsolicited winks, I could just talk to my reflection in the toaster.”

He lets out a dramatic gasp and presses a hand to his chest. “Ouch. And here I thought we had a special little connection. The way you look at me? Those lingering glances? That tiny smirk you always try to hide when I walk into the room…”

You blink. “Are you seriously rewriting our entire history into some romantic comedy in your head right now?”

He stands, walking toward you slowly, glass still in hand, voice low and overly confident. “You definitely flirt with me. Admit it. It’s okay. You’re only human… well, mostly.”

You cross your arms and raise a brow. “Damon, I smile at you because I’m trying not to laugh when you try to act smooth. It’s sympathy. Not flirting.”

He steps closer, now just a breath away, and smirks like he already won. “You sure? Because I’ve seen the way your eyes linger. The way you bite your lip when I say something ‘dangerously charming.’”

You scoff. “Or maybe it’s because I’m debating whether or not to throw something at you.”

He raises his brows. “Still counts as attention. I live for it.”

You shake your head with a small smile, turning to leave. “Unbelievable. You are the human version of a smirk and a leather jacket.”

As you walk out, he calls after you with a cocky grin, “Just admit it, sweetheart! I’m your guilty pleasure.”

Without turning back, you call out, “My guilty pleasure is chocolate cake and Elijah reading poetry. You’re just a headache in tight jeans.”

Damon raises his glass in salute. “Still love me.”

Elena is mid-sentence, animatedly waving her hands. “and then Stefan literally blushed when I told him I had a dream where he turned into a golden retriever and tried to propose.”

You burst out laughing, nearly choking on your tea. “Wait what? Did dream-Stefan have a little ring box in his mouth or something?”

“He did!” Elena groans with a laugh. “He sat there wagging his tail and everything. I woke up confused and emotionally betrayed.”

Jenna grins, sipping her wine. “Honestly, sounds like a metaphor for most Mystic Falls relationships sweet, loyal, and completely surreal.”

You lean back into the couch, legs tucked underneath you. “Okay, okay. But can we talk about Elijah for a second? Because this man bought me first edition Emily Dickinson poetry and didn’t even brag about it.”

Elena gasps. “That’s better than jewelry.”

Jenna nods approvingly. “Gentleman behavior. Take notes, Mystic Falls boys.”

“Seriously,” you say, grinning. “And when I told him I had a bad day, he just listened. Didn’t try to fix it, didn’t make it about him. Just… sat with me.”

Jenna sighs dreamily. “Marry him.”

Elena raises a brow. “Slow down, Aunt Jenna.”

You laugh and raise your mug. “To emotionally available vampires with great taste in literature.”

Elena and Jenna clink their mugs with yours, all of you giggling like teenagers.

Just as Jenna leans in, clearly about to dive into some juicy story from her college days, the front door creaks open and in walks Jeremy hoodie half-zipped, earbuds dangling around his neck, and an expression that screams why is it so loud in here.

He stops in his tracks when he sees the scene: candles, blankets, chick flicks, and the unmistakable aura of feminine energy.

“Uh…” he squints. “Am I interrupting a coven meeting or something?”

Elena rolls her eyes. “It’s called girl talk, Jeremy. You wouldn’t understand.”

Jeremy raises his hands in mock defense. “Okay, okay. I just came down for a soda. Chill.”

Jenna grins. “Unless you want to sit down and discuss vampire boyfriends, exes, and emotionally unavailable men, I suggest you take your soda and run.”

Jeremy makes a face. “Nope. Hard pass.”

As he turns to leave, you call out, “Wait! Before you go Team Damon or Team Stefan?”

He pauses, groans loudly, and keeps walking toward the kitchen. “Why is that even a question in this house?!”

You, Elena, and Jenna dissolve into laughter as the fridge door slams open in the background.

Jenna leans in and whispers, “Boys are so dramatic.”

Elena smirks. “They really are.”

The next morning, the sun is shining but it feels wrong. Too bright. Too calm.

You pull into the driveway of your house after spending the night at the Mikaelsons. Elijah’s cologne still clinging faintly to your clothes. His goodbye kiss had been soft, his hands warm against your face, promising he’d see you soon. Everything had felt safe. Peaceful. For once, it felt like things might finally be okay.

But as you approach the front door, that peace begins to crack.

The house is quiet. No music playing from Elena’s room. No clatter of dishes in the kitchen. Just… silence. Thick and eerie.

You step inside slowly, calling out, “Elena? Aunt Jenna?”

No answer.

Your heart starts to pound. You drop your bag by the door and move further in, eyes scanning the living room. It’s empty. A coffee cup is still sitting on the side table—half full, gone cold.

“Elena?” you try again, your voice trembling now.

You hear a small sound a sniff. Then another.

You follow it upstairs, your footsteps cautious, every creak of the stairs echoing through the stillness. When you push open Elena’s door, you find her curled up in the corner of her bed, knees drawn to her chest, her face buried in her hands. She’s shaking.

“Elena?” you whisper, stepping closer, fear gripping your throat.

She looks up slowly, and her eyes are red and swollen, mascara streaked down her cheeks. The moment she sees you, a broken sob escapes her lips.

You rush to her side, kneeling in front of her. “What happened? Elena, what what is it?”

She tries to speak, but her voice cracks. She covers her mouth like she’s trying to hold herself together. You grasp her hands gently, your voice shaking. “Please. Tell me what happened.”

“Y/n…” she chokes out. “You… you need to sit down.”

Your blood goes cold.

“Elena,” you say, firmer now, “What. Happened?”

She looks you dead in the eyes, and it’s the kind of look that tells you your world is about to fall apart.

“It’s Aunt Jenna,” she whispers. “She’s gone.”

The words hit you like a car crash. You blink, trying to process them, your body frozen.

“No,” you whisper. “No, that’s not… that’s not funny.”

“She’s gone,” Elena repeats, voice breaking completely now. “Last night Klaus he… he killed her.”

The room spins. You stumble back, barely catching yourself on the edge of the bed.

“No, that can’t be right Elijah said Klaus was keeping his distance. He said he wouldn’t he promised—”

“He lied,” Elena snaps, more anger than anything else, tears pouring down her face. “Klaus turned her into a vampire. Then he used her. And when he was done, he —he killed her like she was nothing.”

You’re shaking your head, your hands gripping your thighs so hard your nails dig into your skin.

“No… no, no, no. She was just she was just drinking wine on the porch yesterday she was teasing me about Damon she can’t be gone.”

Elena wraps her arms around you, but it doesn’t feel like comfort. It feels like suffocating. Like reality is pressing down on your chest and stealing all the air.

You break.

A sound tears from your throat a cry so raw, so guttural, it doesn’t even sound like you. Your whole body folds in on itself, and you sob into Elena’s shoulder, both of you shaking, both of you drowning in the loss.

“I should’ve been here,” you whisper over and over. “I should’ve protected her. I should’ve been here.”

Elena just cries harder.

Downstairs, the clock ticks like nothing happened. Outside, birds still sing. But in that room, the world has changed forever.

And all you can feel is the absence of the woman who raised you gone because of a man you thought you could trust.

And something inside you starts to harden.

The moment Elena’s words sink into your soul Klaus killed Aunt Jenna something inside you cracks so violently it feels like it takes your breath with it.

You barely remember how you left the house. Your legs moved on their own, your vision blurry, ears ringing with Elena’s voice echoing like a ghost: He used her. He killed her.

You feel numb. Cold. Like the warmth from your body left the second you realized you’d spent the night wrapped in Elijah’s arms safe, cared for, even laughing while your aunt was being turned, used, and discarded like nothing.

And he knew. He had to have known.

It doesn’t take long to find him. He’s outside the Mikaelson compound, standing in the courtyard, speaking softly with Kol. The second he sees you, he straightens, his expression instantly shifting—concern, relief, warmth.

“Y/N,” Elijah says, stepping toward you, “I was just coming to see you.”

You stop in your tracks, eyes fixed on him like daggers. Something about the way he says your name makes your stomach twist—how dare he sound so calm.

He notices the storm brewing in your eyes and takes another step closer, cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t answer immediately. You just stare at him. And the moment of silence is heavy. Too heavy. Then you breathe out—broken, sharp—and ask quietly, too quietly:

“When were you going to tell me?”

Elijah’s brow furrows. “Tell you what?”

You clench your jaw. “That your brother killed my aunt.”

The color drains from his face.

“Elena told me everything,” you go on, voice shaking, but no longer soft. “Klaus turned her. Used her. And then he killed her like she was disposable. Like she was nothing.”

Elijah opens his mouth, but you hold up your hand. “Don’t. Don’t even try to defend him. Don’t tell me he was desperate or that it was a sacrifice. Don’t insult her memory like that.”

“I wasn’t going to—” he starts, but you cut him off, anger bubbling out like lava.

“You knew, Elijah. You knew Klaus was planning something. You kept telling me you’d protect me and the people I love, but you let me stay the night with you while he slaughtered her!” Your voice cracks at the end, and tears spill down your cheeks, but you don’t care. “You were distracting me while she was dying.”

“No,” Elijah breathes, stepping closer. “I didn’t know. I swear to you—I didn’t know. If I had—”

“You would’ve what?” you snap. “Stopped him? Lied better? Offered someone else instead?”

He flinches like you slapped him.

“I trusted you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper now, full of heartbreak. “I let you in. I let myself love you. And while I was in your arms, my aunt the woman who raised me was being ripped away from me.”

Elijah takes another step toward you. “Please—Y/N, look at me. You know me. You know I would never—”

But you shake your head, backing away.

“I don’t know you,” you whisper. “Not anymore.”

You turn, your footsteps heavy and uneven, but you don’t stop. You don’t look back, even as Elijah calls your name—once, then again, more broken, more desperate.

“Y/N please don’t walk away like this—”

But you keep going.

Because if you turn around now, if you see the guilt in his eyes, the pain on his face you might shatter completely.

And you’ve already lost too much to let him break you, too.

You don’t know how you got home. The roads blurred beneath your tires, the air was cold and sharp, and your hands shook the entire drive. The house is dark when you step inside too quiet. Too still. Like it knows something is gone.

You stand in the middle of the living room where it all once felt full. Jenna’s laughter used to echo here. Her music used to play. Her voice used to call you in from the porch for dinner or force you and Elena to sit down for “girl talks” you’d pretend to hate but secretly loved.

Now… silence.

You drop your keys and just stand there, arms hanging limp at your sides as the weight of it finally sinks in.

She’s gone.

A sob builds in your throat, but before it can rise, your knees buckle, and you collapse onto the couch. And then, like a dam shattering, the memories hit you hard and fast, in violent, suffocating waves.

You see Jenna holding you as a child, brushing your hair behind your ear, whispering, “You’re safe now, baby. I’ve got you.”

You see her at your first school play, standing and clapping way too loudly, cheering like you’d just won an Oscar.

You see her with Jeremy, gently guiding him through heartbreak. With Elena, holding her steady through every storm. With you always with you wiping your tears, grounding you when everything felt like it was falling apart.

You remember the night you told her you were a vampire. How scared you were that she’d look at you like a monster. But she didn’t flinch. Not once.

She’d sat beside you, silent for a long moment, and then said, “You’re still my girl. No matter what. Nothing nothing could ever make me stop loving you.”

You remember her stroking your hair that night while you cried in her lap, whispering, “I know you didn’t ask for this. But I’m here. Always.”

And now… she’s gone.

Used. Killed. Just another casualty in Klaus’s sick game.

Your vision blurs as tears spill down your cheeks, your body trembling. You scream into the silence a scream so raw it doesn’t even sound human.

“I should’ve protected her!” you shout into the empty room. “I should’ve been here I should’ve—I should’ve—”

But there’s no one to answer. No one to hold you this time.

You crumble onto the couch and weep until your voice is hoarse, until your body feels like it’s unraveling from the inside. The pain is unbearable like fire in your chest, like acid in your veins. Your heart feels like it’s ripping open over and over and over again.

And then…

Something shifts.

You sit up slowly, the tears still wet on your face. Your breathing evens out not calmer, but emptier. Like something inside you is retreating.

You walk to the mirror in the hallway and stare at yourself.

Eyes bloodshot. Cheeks pale. A girl who looks like she’s already dead inside.

“I can’t do this,” you whisper. “I can’t feel this.”

You place your hand on your chest, where the pain sits like a knife.

“I can’t survive this kind of pain again.”

And then, without another word, you close your eyes.

And you flip the switch.

It’s immediate. Like someone silenced the screaming in your head. The pain stops. The grief disappears. The tightness in your chest melts into nothing.

You open your eyes and stare at your reflection again. There’s no emotion. No tremble in your lip. No tears on your lashes.

Just cold.

Still.

Empty.

You breathe in deeply, straighten your shoulders, and whisper:

“She’s gone. And now so am I.”

And you turn away from the mirror no longer the girl she raised.

No longer someone who feels anything at all.

It’s nearly midnight when Elijah finds him.

Klaus stands at the edge of a clearing just outside the woods, his back turned, paint-stained fingers gripping a half-finished canvas propped against a tree. The moonlight casts long shadows over the grass, and the only sound is the quiet rustling of the wind through the leaves.

He doesn’t turn when Elijah approaches.

“You knew,” Elijah says, his voice low, trembling with fury, heartbreak swimming just beneath the surface. “You knew what you were going to do to her. You planned it.”

Klaus doesn’t respond right away. He continues brushing a few strokes across the canvas, like he’s trying to distract himself from what he already knows is coming.

“I made you a promise,” Klaus finally says, still facing away.

Elijah steps closer, his voice rising now. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt her! You said you cared about her—that you wouldn’t drag the people I love into your games. That was your word, Niklaus. And like always, you twisted it.”

Klaus finally turns, slowly, his face unreadable. “You think I wanted this?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Elijah spits, eyes burning. “You told me you don’t hurt the people you care about. You said it. And now Jenna’s dead. Y/N is broken. You destroyed the only home she had left.”

Klaus narrows his eyes. “You don’t understand the cost of what we’re dealing with. Sacrifices had to be made.”

Elijah’s jaw tightens. “You call Jenna a sacrifice?”

“She was human,” Klaus says flatly. “A liability. One of many.”

Elijah steps closer, his hands clenched into fists. “She was her family. She was ours. And now she’s gone. And for what, Niklaus? Power? Leverage? Some twisted ritual to prove you’re still in control?”

Klaus’s expression shifts just for a moment. Guilt. Regret. But it vanishes quickly.

“Sometimes,” he says quietly, “you have to make choices that hurt the people you care about… if it means protecting them from something worse. Or saving yourself before everything collapses.”

“You sound like our father,” Elijah says coldly.

Klaus flinches.

“That’s what he did, didn’t he?” Elijah goes on. “Sacrificed us. Made his choices. Said it was to protect the family. You’re no different than him now.”

Klaus’s face hardens. “Don’t you dare compare me to him.”

“Then prove it,” Elijah growls, his voice cracking with emotion. “Tell me there was no other way. Tell me you didn’t have a choice. Tell me that you didn’t watch Y/N smile and laugh and trust you, knowing what you were about to do to the one person she couldn’t live without!”

Klaus turns away again, jaw clenched, eyes dark and stormy. He doesn’t answer.

And that silence says more than anything else.

Elijah’s breath shakes as he speaks again, softer this time, full of quiet devastation. “She’s turned off her humanity, Niklaus. She looked me in the eye and didn’t even see me. She’s gone… because of you.”

Klaus closes his eyes.

“She loved you,” Elijah adds bitterly. “She defended you. Even when I couldn’t. And now she doesn’t feel anything. Because that was easier than surviving what you did.”

For a long moment, neither of them speaks. The wind blows between them, cold and hollow. The canvas flutters in the breeze, streaked with angry brushstrokes.

“I never meant for it to happen like this,” Klaus finally says, so quiet it’s nearly a whisper.

Elijah’s eyes shine with unshed tears, his voice soft and tired. “You never mean to, brother. But you always do.”

And with that, Elijah turns and walks away, leaving Klaus alone in the clearing haunted by the silence, and the weight of what he’s broken beyond repair.

It’s been days since you turned off your humanity.

Days since the screaming inside your head finally went quiet.

Days since Jenna’s face last haunted you in your dreams.

Now, all you feel is… nothing. And that nothing has become your sanctuary.

The sky is dark above the Mystic Falls back road, clouds swirling above like bruises. You stand over your next victim a young man trembling in the dirt, blood already smeared at the corner of your mouth. His pulse is loud, quick, panicked. The fear in his eyes used to mean something. Used to stop you. But now?

Now it’s just… noise.

You crouch slowly, gripping his collar, your fangs just beginning to drop, when—

“Y/N,” a familiar voice says behind you, strained. Pleading.

You freeze.

You don’t turn. Your jaw tightens.

“Elijah,” you say coldly, “you should go.”

He steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t you. You don’t kill for pleasure. You don’t hurt people who can’t defend themselves.”

You finally stand and turn to face him, slowly, your expression unreadable. But your eyes are darker now. Hollow. Your voice is void of warmth.

“Why are you talking to me like I’m the one who started all of this?” you ask, your tone sharp but calm, almost mocking. “Like I’m the villain in the story?”

He looks at you, aching in his eyes. “Because I know you, and I know this isn’t what Jenna would’ve—”

“Don’t you say her name,” you snap, stepping forward, your eyes glowing faintly. “You don’t get to say her name. Not when your psycho brother killed her.”

Elijah flinches at the venom in your voice.

“She was the most innocent woman in my life,” you continue, your voice rising now, each word cutting like glass. “The only mother I had left. She protected me, believed in me, loved me when I couldn’t even love myself. And your family took her away.”

“I didn’t know—” he begins, but you cut him off with a bitter laugh.

“No, of course you didn’t. You were too busy pulling me into your bed and whispering promises you couldn’t keep. While your brother was tearing my world apart—again.”

Elijah’s eyes flicker with guilt, but you shake your head before he can speak.

“So don’t stand there trying to guilt me, Elijah. Don’t play the noble card and pretend you’re still the better brother. If you need someone to shame and lecture, try Klaus. Or better yet yourself.”

You walk past him, brushing his shoulder with yours, cold and unforgiving. He reaches for your arm, gently, desperately.

“Y/N… please—”

You yank away, your voice low and final. “Let me be.”

The sky is heavy with clouds as Elijah makes his way to the Gilbert house, his footsteps purposeful but weighed down by the burden he carries. The past few days have been a nightmare a whirlwind of guilt, pain, and shattered trust. He knows what he has to do, even if it means facing the very people his family has hurt.

Bonnie’s already in position when he arrives, standing slightly behind Elena and the Salvatore brothers, her hands just brushing the edge of her spellbook. A protection charm glows faintly beneath her fingertips, ready to be activated at the first sign of danger.

Elena’s arms are crossed, her stance rigid, eyes sharp with distrust. Damon moves in front of her instinctively, his hand twitching slightly as though he’s already thinking about staking Elijah before he even opens his mouth. Stefan watches silently, but his expression is taut and weary.

The moment Elijah steps into the clearing, they block the path to Elena.

He stops a few feet away, lifts his hands to show he’s unarmed.“I didn’t come to fight,” he says softly.

Elena narrows her eyes. Her voice is cold. Flat. “Then what did you come for? Another one of your carefully-worded, emotionally detached speeches? Did you come to justify what your family did?”

Elijah bows his head slightly, the weight of her words sinking deep. “I know I have no right to be here,” he admits quietly. “I wouldn’t show my face after what Klaus did. But I need your help with Y/N.”

Elena’s eyes flash with suspicion and concern. “What’s wrong with my sister?”

Elijah takes a deep breath, steeling himself before he speaks. “I’m afraid she’s… turned off her humanity. The pain of losing Jenna was too much for her to bear. She couldn’t handle it. So she shut down all her feelings.”

There’s a heavy silence as his words settle over the group. “She’s not just hurting, Elena,” Elijah continues, voice low and urgent. “She’s changed. She’s killing—feeding—without restraint. And if we don’t help her, she could spiral into something far worse. Something that could destroy her completely.”

Bonnie’s fingers tighten in her spell, ready to protect if needed, but her eyes flicker with empathy.

Elena’s face crumples, the raw pain of fear and helplessness breaking through her usual composure. “Y/N… my sister… I don’t want to believe it. But if she’s out there hurting people, then we have to stop her. We have to save her.”

Stefan steps forward, voice calm but resolute. “We’ll help. Whatever it takes.”

Elijah nods, grateful but still weighed down by the burden of what’s to come. “Thank you. I know this is difficult. For all of you guys.”

The search had gone on for days.

And with every passing hour, it felt like you were slipping further and further away.

Elijah stood rigidly in the Salvatore living room, arms crossed, jaw clenched, staring at the map sprawled out across the coffee table. Pins. Circles. Places she’d been spotted. Corpses drained and abandoned. All dead ends.

Elena sat on the edge of the couch, exhausted and anxious, her fingers twisting the silver daylight ring on her thumb. Stefan leaned over the map, trying to make sense of a trail that didn’t want to be followed, while Damon paced behind the sofa like a caged animal, half a glass of bourbon in hand, though even he hadn’t touched it in minutes.

“Nothing,” Stefan muttered, drawing a line between two towns. “No leads. She’s not staying in one place for long.”

“She doesn’t need to,” Damon added bitterly. “No humanity means no guilt, no hesitation, and no reason to hide unless she wants to toy with us. She’s playing with us.”

“She’s not playing,” Elijah said, voice low, but full of a quiet ache. “She’s lost.”

The room went still at that.

And then, Bonnie who had been sitting silently with her grimoire open and pages scattered around her stood suddenly, as if a light had flickered on in her mind.

“I think… I might have something,” she said.

All eyes turned to her.

“What is it?” Elena asked, hope and desperation laced in her voice.

“I’ve been reading a tracking spell. It’s ancient, but it was originally used to trace the bloodline of vampires… or those sired by the same blood,” Bonnie said, flipping through the pages of her book.

Damon frowned. “You want to use a sire bond locator?”

“No,” Bonnie clarified, “not the bond itself. But blood that shares the same lineage. The spell can link a vampire’s location to another from the same bloodline. And since Y/N was turned by Katherine…”

Stefan’s eyes widened slightly. “Who turned Damon and me.”

Bonnie nodded. “Exactly. That makes your blood linked to hers distantly, but enough for the spell to work.”

Damon raised a brow, lowering his glass. “So you want a sample of our blood? You could’ve just said that instead of reciting a whole spellbook.”

“Damon,” Bonnie said through a clenched jaw. “You want to find her or not?”

He rolled his eyes but held out his arm. “Fine. Poke me, witch.”

Bonnie gave him a tight smile and handed him a small silver blade. Damon sliced his palm, letting a few thick drops fall onto the blank parchment she placed in front of her. Stefan silently did the same beside him.

Bonnie closed her eyes, letting the blood soak into the page, murmuring the spell under her breath as her fingers hovered above it. The candles around the room flickered violently, reacting to the surge of magic. The blood began to swirl across the paper like ink in water, carving lines, symbols, and finally slowly forming a map. Red veins spread outward until they landed on a single point, glowing faintly.

“She’s in Oak Hill,” Bonnie whispered, opening her eyes.

Elijah stepped forward. “Are you certain?”

Bonnie nodded. “Yes. She’s there. But I don’t know for how long.”

Elena leaned forward. “Why would she be there? There’s nothing in Oak Hill.”

Elijah’s eyes darkened. “There’s nothing for you there. But Y/N… she once told me it was a place she and Jenna used to go. A quiet retreat when things got too loud.”

“So now she’s turning it into a feeding ground,” Damon muttered. “Great. Even her trauma has real estate.”

Elijah shot him a sharp look but said nothing. The urgency in the room thickened.

Bonnie stood, her voice steady. “We have her location. But you need to be prepared. She’s not Y/N right now.”

Stefan nodded solemnly. “Then we’ll bring her back… one way or another.”

Elijah’s eyes stayed fixed on the glowing point on the map. His voice was barely a whisper.

“She’s still in there. I know she is.”

And now, for the first time in days, they had a way to find her.

Even if what they found… wasn’t who they remembered.

The forest at Oak Hill was quiet… eerily so. The sun had dipped low behind the trees, casting long shadows across the clearing where the last blood trail had led them. Elijah, Stefan, Damon, Elena, and Bonnie moved through the trees with a careful urgency. Each footstep was deliberate. Each breath was heavy.

They were close now. They could feel it.

And then… they heard it.

A scream.

A woman’s voice frantic, terrified.

Elijah didn’t hesitate. He ran.

The others followed closely behind, weaving through the brush until they broke through the treeline into a clearing—and there you were.

Your back was to them, your hand gripping a woman by the throat, lifting her off the ground effortlessly. Her eyes were wide with terror, her feet kicking helplessly, the scent of blood already thick in the air. You were just about to sink your fangs into her neck when—

“Baby!!” Elijah’s voice thundered across the clearing.

You paused.

“What are you doing?! Please—let her go!” His voice cracked, raw with desperation.

You froze. Slowly, your head turned.

Your eyes locked onto him, then flicked across the clearing.

Damon.

Stefan.

Elena.

Bonnie.

All of them stood there, unmoving. Faces tight with fear, concern, heartbreak.

You narrowed your eyes, your grip on the woman loosening, but your expression twisted with anger.

“How…?” your voice was low, a growl almost. “How did you find me?”

Bonnie stepped forward slightly, her voice calm but steady. “We tracked you. Through your bloodline.”

You dropped the woman to the ground, where she crawled away, gasping. You didn’t even look at her anymore. Your eyes were locked onto them.

“I told you to let me be,” you said, stalking toward them slowly, predatory and poised. “But you just couldn’t do that, could you?”

Elijah stepped forward carefully. “Y/N, please. I know you’re in pain. I know you don’t want to feel it—but this isn’t the way.”

You laughed bitterly. “You think you know what I feel? You think you understand what it’s like to watch the only good person in your life die while you’re too busy sleeping next to the man whose brother murdered her?”

His face dropped, jaw tightening with shame.

“You should’ve stayed away,” you whispered. “All of you. Do I need to show you again what happens when you don’t listen?”

You took another step forward, veins darkening beneath your eyes, your fangs descending.

Bonnie’s fingers twitched.

“Now, Bonnie,” Elena said quietly.

Bonnie closed her eyes and murmured a spell under her breath, voice ancient and precise. A golden light began to glow between her palms as wind rushed through the trees like a sudden storm.

You staggered.

Your eyes widened.

“What…?” you gasped, stumbling backward. “What are you—”

And then your body collapsed.

Elijah moved faster than anyone, catching you before you hit the ground. You were limp in his arms, your breathing shallow, face still and pale, your dark lashes resting gently against your cheeks like you were just sleeping.

He held you tightly, cradling you to his chest like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

The others stood around silently relieved, broken, and afraid of what would come next.

“She’ll wake up soon,” Bonnie said quietly. “But that was temporary. It bought us time. Nothing more.”

Elijah looked down at you, brushing the hair from your face, voice shaking as he whispered, “I’ll bring you back. I swear to you, I’ll bring you home.”

And in the middle of the woods, surrounded by blood, silence, and broken hearts, the first battle to save your soul had just begun.

The world felt… strange.

You blinked slowly as you opened your eyes, vision blurred by sleep and unfamiliar stillness. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lamp on your dresser. You recognized the sheets beneath you—the soft ones you’d picked out with Jenna after a long afternoon of shopping. The scent of lavender still lingered faintly in the air.

Home.

But it didn’t feel like home. Not without her.

Your body was heavy as you sat up in bed. There was no ache, no tension just numbness. You looked down at your hands, flexing your fingers, remembering the weight of your last victim’s blood, the way the warmth drained from their skin.

And yet, somehow, this bed… this house… it still hadn’t burned to ash the way your insides had.

You stood and crossed the room slowly. Every movement felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. Your feet carried you to the door almost without thought. You placed your hand on the knob, twisted it, and pulled it open.

Elijah was standing right there.

Tall. Silent. Steady. Like he had been waiting the entire night.

His face was etched with exhaustion and guilt. His eyes, those eyes you once loved to get lost in, were now glassy with a sadness so deep it mirrored your own.

You moved to step past him without a word.

But his hand gently caught your arm not forcefully, just enough to stop you.

“Y/N,” he said softly, voice thick, “please. Just… wait.”

You turned toward him slowly, your face blank, but your eyes holding a storm beneath the surface.

“I feel what you’re feeling,” Elijah continued, stepping closer, still holding your arm with a touch that was more anchor than restraint. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for the pain my brother has caused you.”

You stared at him for a long, agonizing moment before your mouth twisted, your voice finally cracking through the shell around you.

“You don’t know what I’m feeling.”

Tears welled up in your eyes so suddenly it took your breath away. You shoved at his chest not hard, but enough. Your voice shook, broken and angry and lost all at once.

“You weren’t there. You didn’t see what he did to her. You didn’t feel her slip away. You didn’t hold her hand while she was alive you didn’t wake up knowing she’s gone. Forever.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t know what that kind of emptiness feels like.”

Elijah didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away.

“I do,” he said gently, his hand moving from your arm to your cheek, brushing away a tear that had started to fall. “Because I know you. I know your heart. I know how much Jenna meant to you how she raised you, loved you, protected you. I know you’re walking through every second of this pretending it doesn’t hurt, because it hurts too much to let yourself feel it.”

You shook your head, but the tears were already spilling freely. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to break, but his words his eyes were cutting through every wall.

“I know you think shutting off your humanity was the only way to survive it,” he whispered, stepping closer. “But you’re not alone in this, Y/N. You never were. And you don’t have to carry this weight without someone to hold it with you.”

He paused, swallowing hard.

“If you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here. If you need silence, I’ll sit with you. If you need rage I’ll burn with you. But please…” his voice faltered, “I pray you turn it back on. Not for me. Not for them. For you. Because the girl I love the woman who fought so hard to keep her family together she’s still in there. And she deserves to come back.”

You stared at him, your face trembling as tears spilled freely now, no longer held back.

His hand pressed gently to your chest, right over your heart.

“Let her come back,” he whispered. “Please.”

And then—

It hit you.

Like a wave crashing over your soul, the dam you built so carefully burst open.

The grief. The love. The guilt. The memories. All of it came flooding back in one unbearable, unstoppable surge. You gasped and staggered forward, clutching his shirt as a scream escaped your lips raw and guttural.

Elijah caught you instantly, pulling you into his arms as you sobbed uncontrollably against his chest. Your fists balled in his jacket, your body shaking as every emotion came crashing down, drowning you in everything you tried to escape.

“She’s really gone,” you whispered between sobs, “and I couldn’t save her.”

“I know,” Elijah murmured, pressing his lips to the top of your head, his own eyes wet with grief. “But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You collapsed into him completely, no longer fighting the pain. No longer pretending it wasn’t there.

And for the first time since you lost her, you felt again.

And for the first time since you shut the world out, someone was there to hold you through it.

[dangerousimagines]

You're Not Real (Joker x Reader)

Keep reading

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Jealousy in a Timelord (11th Doctor X Fem!Timelord!Reader)

Characters: 11th Doctor X Fem!Timelord!Reader

Universe: Doctor Who

Warnings: Injury, technically there’s death and I think I only swore once.

Request: Could I request a doctor who one where the reader is a Time Lord too, and she’s the doctors wife (instead of river) and she gets jealous when river starts to join her and the 11th doctor and Amy and Rory on the tardis and then she starts to distance herself, refusing to go on adventures with them, instead staying on her own in the tardis and then something sneaks onto the tardis and attacks her maybe and there’s angst and fluff where she explains her worries to the doctor and he reassures her.

“I’m taking Amy, Rory and River to Reloxus, want to come along?” He’d asked you. You’d heard something along the lines several times these past few weeks. They followed the same path- Taking Amy, Rory and River to a planet to see something beautiful- something you loved, and asking you to join in. So far, you’d said no- you’d come up with excuses. At first you had good ones, like “My heel still feels sore from the last trip” “Remember the last time we were here? They wanted me dead, you’ve got a new face, it’s best I stay here.” But over time they became worse and worse to “I want to clean the library.” “I’m tired.” and today’s excuse: 

Keep reading

[cherrycocaineee]

38. Joker - A Love Story For The Books

* Warning: powers/abilities, murder, torture, kind of follows the storyline of Harley Quinn. *

* Synopsis: Even with your telekinetic powers, you’ve always wanted to remain normal to the world and what better way to be normal than to become a psychiatrist like your older sister, Harleen Quinzel. What you didn’t expect was to ever sit in on one of her sessions with the Joker, and neither did Harleen who had done everything in her power to keep you and him away from each other for your own safety. With your new found infatuation with the criminal clown and his amusing interest in you, what could possibly go wrong? Or right, in your opinion. *

Harleen’s dull gray heels drummed against the cold concrete that the two of you were currently walking on. The sound of her heels were accompanied by her flipping through pages on her clipboard. It had been almost thirty minutes since your older sister had spoken a single word to you but you could hear the slow huffs of her breathing as she grumbled in frustration. Harleen wasn’t angry with you, no, in fact she was more worried about you than anything; instead, she was pissed off at her boss who assigned you to her side today knowing that she was working with the Joker. Even though Harleen was seething with frustration, worry, and anger, you were ecstatic. You were tired of the same old same old everyday and you swore if you had to listen to another person talk about something that lacked any real interest again, you might actually blow your own head up. Of course you understood that not every crazy case was going to be off the walls in terms of interest but because of Harleen’s persistent worry for you in this field of work, she’d made it her life’s mission to keep you with all the snooze fest patients.

You were so lost in your rambling thoughts you hadn’t noticed Harleen had stopped until you smacked right into her. A yelp left your dusty rose lips as you quickly drew your hand up to your nose that was now throbbing in pain.

“A warning next time would be great,” you grumbled.

“Sorry,” she replied shortly, “Now listen up, okay. Whatever he says in there, you can’t listen to him. He’s going to make up some sad story about his childhood, it’s fake so don’t fall for it.”

Your eyebrow arched up quizzically, “Then why do you let him tell you something if you know it’s false?”

“Because you learn more from the patients who lie.”

Harleen didn’t say another word before placing her keycard against the lock. There was a quiet chime before the red light switched to a green light, then the sound of metal scraping against metal abused your ears as the lock came undone. The noise was so loud, you almost flinched. When the noise subsided, Harleen pulled the door open and walked inside, leaving the door open so that you could go inside too.

On the inside of this cell it was like any other cell here; there was a single bed sitting in the corner of the room with a thin mattress that didn’t even have a sheet on it; a small, paper thin blanket for them to cover up with laid folded at the end of it as if it had never been used before; in the opposite corner was a desk attached to the wall with a singular, shitty chair for sitting at. Other than those things, the room was pretty bare but most of them were. Occasionally there would be a few patients who had wall art hanging up from their family members or from themselves but it was rare.

As Harleen made her way to the rickety chair in the corner to sit down at, you finished closing the door, waiting for the lock to click. Through the window there were two guards standing at their post which was protocol when a psychiatrist entered a room with any of the patients; they were all criminally insane and at any point in time they could do something to cause harm.

There wasn’t another chair for you to sit in, so you ended up standing beside Harleen. Your eyes had been so busy everywhere else you’d failed to see the Joker sitting at the edge of his bed completely swaddled in a straight jacket. His icy blue eyes pierced right through you causing you to swallow hard on the build up of saliva collecting in your mouth. Harleen’s pen clicking was what helped you to switch your gaze away from him but you could still feel him looking at you.

“Dr. Quinzel,” the Joker purred, “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you. And I see you’ve brought a lovely guest. What’s your name, doll?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer because your sister did for you.

“You’ll address her by Dr. Quinzel too, Joker,” Harleen stated promptly, not even looking up from her clipboard.

“Two Dr. Quinzels!” He hollered delightfully, “Aren’t I the lucky one?”

When Harleen didn’t reply to his outburst, you gave him a small smile.

“I’m her younger sister,” you added, “Y/N.”

“Y/N Quinzel,” he mulled over, a grin plastered on his painted lips, “I like the sound of that.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his compliment, at least that’s what you thought it was.

“That’s enough,” Harleen said, “it’s time to get started.”

You couldn’t blame Harleen for trying to stick to her questions, she had always wanted to be a psychiatrist and she took her work incredibly serious. You pulled out the copy of questions your sister gave you and readied yourself to follow along with the conversation. You didn’t need to write anything down, that was Harleen’s job, all you needed to do was listen in and learn. It was a practice run so that eventually you could start talking to patients by yourself.

“Now, Joker,” Harleen started, “why don’t we start where we left off.”

“Right,” he chuckled, “where did we leave off, Dr. Quinzel?”

Turns out they left off talking about the Joker’s father. Like Harleen had told you, the story was sad and in your opinion, it was overly sad. And he kept changing things, making it almost impossible for you to keep up with the conversation. What you did notice was the way his eyes watched you. You weren’t sure if you should say anything, your sister’s head buried in her papers where she couldn’t see anything. Maybe that was her way of keeping things professional, she didn’t stare at her patients too long or at all. The Joker didn’t seem to mind her not paying attention to him, his gaze was fixed on you and he had no intention of looking anywhere else for the entire session. It was weird to you because even though his eyes should have been making you squirm where you were standing, it wasn’t; in fact, they felt nice. There was no other way to describe it because it was nothing you’d experienced before. It was almost predatory like but there was a hint of possessiveness. Now there was no way you were paying attention to the actual reason you were here and judging by the smirk on his ruby stained lips, he knew it too.

Before you knew it, the session was over and Harleen was thanking the Joker for his time; something she did with all her patients. She was also the first to leave the room, leaving you behind which worked out perfectly for you. You stole another glance back at the Joker, his eyes still resting on you. You swallowed hard, turning on your heel to leave, the door closing behind you. It was odd, once the door closed and locked you found yourself missing his presence. Sighing heavily, you shook your head and ran after Harleen, grateful that you had worn converse instead of heels like she did.

For the next couple of weeks you joined Harleen in her sessions with the Joker; after about the fifth session, you’d been upgraded to a chair which worked for your aching feet. Harleen was gathering her belongings when the Joker decided to press his luck in having an actual conversation with you.

“How are you liking your chair?” He questioned, “I’ve noticed you swaying on the balls of your heels for the last couple of sessions. Couldn’t see you in any pain any longer so I asked one of the guards to bring you your own chair.”

You hadn’t noticed before but you had even started massaging your ankles trying to remove some of the swollenness, even now you were doing it even though you’d been sitting. Though sitting in this chair for a mere hour didn’t compare to the rest of the day when you were on your feet.

“Oh,” you said, meeting his eyes and pulling your hand away from your ankle, “thank you, that was very kind. It actually feels nice to get off of my feet for even just an hour.”

“That’s so good to hear.”

“Y/N.”

Harleen’s voice sliced through your conversation like a freshly sharpened knife causing you to flinch.

“It’s time to go.”

She was holding her notes against her chest, staring at you knowingly.

“Right!” You said, hopping out of your seat, “right. Let’s get moving then.”

Before you and Harleen had left the room, the head doctor, Dr. Louis, poked his head in. There were two guards accompanying him for his own protection; a lot of these psychotic criminals would enjoy getting their hands on him so he needed to be watched over constantly.

“Ah, I thought I’d find the two of you here. I just wanted to let you guys know that from now on Y/N will be taking the Joker as her patient. Harleen, you’ll be seeing after our newest patient.”

“What?” Harleen and I said at the same time.

It wasn’t in the same tone: Harleen’s was more disbelieving while yours was more exciting. You had started working here a year ago but had never been allowed to take on patients by yourself. You always accompanied another doctor with their patient which is why you were so damn bored with it. Unless you were a high level doctor like Harleen or Dr. Louis, you didn’t get to see the incredibly dangerous criminal patients that they harbored here at Arkham. It astonished you that Dr. Louis was trusting you with the most dangerous patient here. Of course it might have something to do with your telekinesis, you could easily apprehend the Joker with your mind if you wanted to.

“We have a new patient coming in, she’ll need a lot of your attention, Harleen. I’m sure with Y/N’s skills, she’ll be able to handle this clown with ease.”

You stole a glance at the Joker who was now laying back on his bed with an amused look on his face, unbothered by Dr. Louis’ choice of words.

“You hear me, Joker,” Dr. Louis added, “your new doctor will now be Y/N Quinzel, so get use to seeing her face.”

He grinned wickedly, “I look forward to a fresh, new, beautiful face.”

Dr. Louis left the cell with Harleen running after him in protest, leaving you alone with the Joker for the first time. You turned to the table where Harleen had thrown her things down at the sudden news. All of the papers were scattered now, some even littering the floor, making you huff.

“My,” the Joker chuckled, “she’s trying so hard to keep you away from me.”

“Don’t pay her any mind,” you said, kneeling down to pick up her discarded papers, “she’s just protective of her little sister, is all.”

He didn’t say anything and the silence between the two of you was peaceful. You finished gathering all of Harleen’s papers before standing up and turning to him.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you state.

“Guess so,” he sang, still grinning from ear to ear.

For the first time since you’ve been sitting in on these sessions, you smiled back. The way you went about things was completely different from your sisters: whereas she was cold and distant, you felt that it made things easier to be friendly towards the patients, it helped them trust you just a bit more. Without another word, you gave a slight wave and left the room, listening as the doors locked behind you.

The next day you were over the moon since it was your first day being alone with the patient. The night before you stayed up planning every question you could possibly think to ask. You had to ignore Harleen’s countless calls because you knew she was only calling to warn you once again about the Joker’s routine antics. It felt like she didn’t think you could do this but it was ridiculous because you knew you were more prepared than anyone could be.

Pulling an all nighter was probably the worst thing you could have done, on top of the two large coffees that you had plus a third. All of that caffeine was making your heart beat fast but you ignored it, not wanting to be sent home or to the ER on your first day. Like usual, you entered the Joker’s cell, this time alone, and saw the shadow of two guards outside the door. The Joker was sitting in his bed in an upright position as if he had been waiting for you for hours, though you knew that wasn’t true.

“Good morning, Dr. Quinzel,” he greeted.

“Good morning, Joker,” you returned, “and please, just call me Y/N. I’m not really into formalities.”

“Then it’s only fair that you call me Mister J,” he smiled, “it’s what all my friends call me.”

You smiled. “Then let’s get started, Mister J.”

Your first therapy session with the Joker went as well as you expected, of course you didn’t think anything he said was the truth but it amazed you that he could come up with so many different ways to lie about his family life. You didn’t mind the lies, it kind of felt like a new story being read to you everyday which is what you wanted in the beginning.

As you were writing down what the Joker said, you noticed the Joker squirming around his spot.

“Everything okay?” You asked, folding your writing hand over your clipboard.

“Sitting like this for so long makes you kind of stiff,” he grumbled.

His discomfort seemed genuine and you hated it when people were uncomfortable.

“Is your…your jacket too tight?” You asked.

“A bit. But nothing I can’t handle, doll. Now where were we?”

You took a deep breath, thinking of probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever thought of. Only the guards had the keys to the most dangerous criminals white jackets but with your telekinesis you could easily undo it and give him a bit of freedom.

“I could help you.”

He brought his icy blue eyes up to meet your gaze.

“And how could you do that?” He questioned curiously.

“I could remove your jacket. Just until our session is over, then it’ll have to go back on.”

He didn’t seem to understand, everyone knew doctors didn’t carry keys to undo the jackets as well as they didn’t care if the patient was uncomfortable. The question for him was how were you planning to remove the jacket without a key and why would you do something like that?

“How?”

The Joker watched your eyes flutter shut before he realized that his white jacket was starting to undo itself. There was the soft clinking of the locks before they clattered to the floor, the fabric started to untangle itself too, giving the Joker some room to even just wiggle around. That left another question in his head: were you doing this with your mind?

Soon the entire jacket had been removed from his body leaving him shirtless; the jacket was now neatly folded and sitting beside him on his bed. For the first time in months, the Joker was able to move his arms. Standing to his feet, the Joker stretched his arms and popped his back. By then, you had opened your eyes again and were watching his every single move. Not because you didn’t trust him but because it fascinated you to see even someone like the Joker finding satisfaction in being able to stretch his arms out. You honestly didn’t think anything bothered him but clearly you were wrong.

“Feeling better?” You quizzed, pulling yourself up from your chair.

It had been awhile since you had used your telekinesis so it made you dizzy to stand up so fast. You swayed a bit on your feet before tumbling forward, only to be caught by the Joker with his newly free hands. It was the least he could do since you took his chains off.

“I feel fantastic, doll,” he hummed, grinning from ear to ear, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine,” you muttered, steadying yourself on your feet, “I haven’t done that in awhile.”

“And what exactly was that that you did?”

“I used my telekinesis to remove your jacket. And later, I’ll use it again to put the jacket back on you.”

Finally you were able to stand on your own so you released the Joker’s broad arms, smiling a thank you to him.

“We have twenty-five minutes left until our session is over, so you have that long to get in as much exercise as you need. We can talk while you do so, it won’t bother me.”

So that’s what the Joker did. As the two of you spoke about his falsified childhood while he did whatever exercise he needed to do. When those twenty-five minutes were up, you quickly put on his jacket before the guards came to escort you out like they did at the end of every session.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mister J.”

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

And that’s how it went for the next couple of months. You would sit with the Joker and discuss a new family situation, never really getting anywhere new, while he was able to freely roam around in his cell while working out his arms from all the knots that were in them. What you weren’t expecting was to fall in love with him. He was kind, sweet, and always asked how your day was going like he actually cared. You didn’t know if he truly did or not but the interest in his voice was much needed, especially lately.

“Oh, kitten,” the Joker purred, getting closer to you, “you seem in a foul mood today. Is everything okay?”

You tore your eyes away from your papers, there weren’t many questions today and it seemed like the questions list was dwindling more and more everyday.

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat, “I’m fine. There’s just a lot going on at home.”

Despite how hard you had been working, you never seemed to meet your parents’ expectations and their expectations were high considering they wanted you to be exactly like Harleen. And more frequently you’d been going over there with Harleen to have family dinners and somehow you never seemed to get the same praise you felt you deserved. Instead, your parents were always finding ways to critique your work, never seeming to understand that you had earned your patient’s trust rather than ignoring their basic needs as human beings. They had said on countless occasions that they wished you were more like your older sister, and you’d be lying if you didn’t say it hurt your self esteem a bit.

“No need to worry yourself about my home troubles, Mister J. Tell me-”

“Ah, ah,” he said, his fingers gripping your chin so you couldn’t look away, “I’m more interested in what you have to say. You can tell me.”

For some reason it really felt like you could tell him. So all of a sudden you found yourself crying out your complaints to the Joker as he consoled you; it was like he was the therapist and you were the criminal in need of some real mental help. And the way he soothed you made you fall in love with him more and more. He patted your back while you wiped away a few tears; you were grateful that you skipped wearing any makeup today even if you looked like you hadn’t slept in weeks. The Joker had his hooks in you and he knew it. By the next session, you’d be ready to give him anything he asked for and he knew just what he needed to make his escape.

The next session, you felt better than before and you had a little more pep in your step too. You were clenching your notepad in your arms as you sped off towards the Joker’s cell. You couldn’t help the feeling in your chest that made you excited to see him and honestly you hoped that he felt the same way. Today you brought him a present, something to brighten up his little area and hopefully make him smile some more. Once again you heard the slow, loud clicking of the metal locks before you pushed the door open. As routine, the door closed behind you and the guards stood outside ready for whatever. However, the inside of the room was just a bit different. There was a table now in the center of the room with two chairs sitting on either side of it. It was a new accessory that was a bit different then what you were use to. The Joker was already sitting patiently at one end of the table, a grin plastered over his painted lips.

“Dr. Quinzel,” he said, “my favorite part of the day.”

“We’ve been over this, Mister J,” you laughed, “just call me Y/N.”

That made his smile wider.

You took your seat across from him, your notepad finding its permanent spot in front of you on the table.

“I got you something,” you said happily.

“What have you got?” He purred.

“Got you a kitty.” You pulled out the stuffed cat and started playing with its little paws.

“So thoughtful.”

As usual, you used your telekinesis to undo his jacket giving him free range to move around. However, he didn’t get up and move around like usual, instead, he sat in front of you just eyeing your every move. You felt nervous under his gaze, a light blush sketching into your cheeks as you tried to look away. You finally built up the confidence to make eye contact with the Joker.

This therapy session wasn’t going anywhere near how they normally went. He was much more flirtatious than usual and you found yourself watching him with eyes filled with admiration, care, and love. You were so lost in his eyes and words that you didn’t realize how close the two of you had gotten, your face merely inches away from his own. You don’t know how it happened but you had fallen in love with him, and despite your brain telling you how stupid it was to be in love with him, your heart yearned for him. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for him and he knew it.

“Should we get started?” You asked, trying to put some space between the two of you.

“Actually Doctor,” the Joker hummed, “there’s something you can do for me.”

“Anything,” you said a bit too excitedly before correcting your tone, “I mean, yeah, of course.”

He shifted. “I need a machine gun.”

The request caught you off guard and your head was screaming at you to stop listening to him like your sister had told you to.

“A machine gun?”

A big, toothy grin stretched from ear to ear.

You knew you shouldn’t do it. That you should warn the guards about his plans. But the way he stared at you, you felt intoxicated and ignored every rational sense you had.

You just weren’t expecting what came next.

You had used your telekinesis to sneak the Joker a machine gun late in the evening, as well as distorting the cameras so you didn’t get caught. You figured he just needed the machine gun to escape, go back to his busy life causing chaos in Gotham. But he had other plans before he went back to his normal shenanigans.

Before you knew it, gunshots were flying through the halls of Arkham as people dressed in animal costumes. Guards were falling down as more and more bullets pierced their skin; you ran, trying to find some coverage while you repeatedly asked yourself what you had done. This wasn’t what you wanted, not even in the slightest. You tried to sneak away, but in the end you were snatched up by some guy in a suit and another guy in a costume. You screamed, thrashing yourself around trying to loosen their grip but they were too strong for you physically. You don’t know why it didn’t come to you, your mind running so fast that you completely overlooked your telekinesis.

The two men strapped you down to what you think was a gurney.

“Get off me!” You snapped through gritted teeth, trying with all your might to push them off.

But in the end, they got the best of you and were able to strap you down. It was only then did you remember your telekinesis, however, the Joker made an appearance distracting you entirely.

“What do we have here?” He grinned, waving his hands around.

He positioned the light above the gurney in front of your face causing you to squint momentarily.

“I did everything you said,” you rasped, “I helped you.”

The Joker just watched you for a second before laughing quietly, anger prominent in his voice as he spoke.

“You helped me by erasing my mind? What few…faded memories…I had left!”

With each word, he slammed his fist against the cushioned gurney. You’d have flinched if you hadn’t loved him so much. You watched him run a hand through his messy green hair.

“Oh. You left me in a black hole of rage and confusion. Is that the medicine you practice, Dr. Quinzel?” He snapped his purple glove.

You shook your head.

“What are you gonna do? You gonna kill me, Mister J?” You asked.

He reached beside you, taking hold of the equipment that some doctors used to erase patients memories of traumatic events in their life. You swallowed a lump in your throat.

“Oh, I’m not gonna kill ya,” he grinned, rotating the shock sticks beside your head, “I’m just gonna hurt ya. Really…really…bad.”

All of a sudden, the small amount of fear you felt in your body was gone. You no longer felt anything but a want to prove that you could handle what he dished out.

“You think so?” You asked, your body no longer shaking, “Well, I can take it.”

The Joker snapped his belt off and folded it in half making a snapping sound as he tightened it. Then he placed the leather material into your mouth making a barrier between your teeth.

“I wouldn’t want you to break those perfect, porcelain cap teeth when the juice hits your brain.”

Then all of a sudden you felt the electroshock surge through your head and you tensed up, your back arching off the gurney. Your telekinesis had a mind of its own while you were incapacitated; the leather straps holding you snapped themselves in half, a table was thrown against the wall, and the lights shattered. It all excited the Joker more and more, making him understandably curious about you but knowing that this was the end of the line for both of you. He’d always have you sketched into his brain and he knew he had left a permanent mark in yours. He just failed to realize that you wouldn’t give up on him just because he caused you a lot of pain.

You practically made it your mission to seek him out; you quit your job much to your families surprise, and you spent every waking day mumbling to yourself as you searched for the Joker. He wasn’t a hard man to track down and when you did manage to find him, he always seemed to need something that involved your telekinesis. You didn’t mind but you had hoped that all of your help would make him consider taking you in and making you his. But it never seemed to work out that way and you were finally getting frustrated, even desperate for him to acknowledge your love for him.

One night you were waiting on the side of the road outside his club, hoping he’d come out and see you. However, you were left disappointed again when you saw him in his purple Lamborghini, driving to God knows where not even sparing you a second glance. You had half a mind to flip it over, show him you aren’t someone to ignore but you didn’t want to hurt him, instead you stole someone’s motorcycle, using your powers to shatter the chain that was used to keep it from being stolen. The owner didn’t know he’d have to protect his bike from thieves with telekinetic powers. And who could blame him as these abilities weren’t common, even in Gotham.

You followed the Joker on the bike, speeding up so that you could catch up to him. Finally you were able to pull up beside him, looking his way in hopes he’d notice you. He did, of course, but his reaction wasn’t one that thrilled you. He pulled his hand up beside him as if trying to block you from his line of sight. Hurt and anger surged through your veins as you let out an irritated yell. You sped up, taking the lead in front of him. Little parts inside you could feel his annoyance creeping across your skin but you didn’t care. Once you were a good distance away, making sure by looking back, you turned the motorcycle on its side and let it scrap against the midnight black paint. Sparks flew and you were positive that the paint on the side was done for. When the bike came to a stop, you hoped off of the part you had been standing on and planted yourself firmly in front of it, any fear in your bones having been erased that day in Arkham.

To anyone looking at it, it looked like the Joker had no intention of stopping but instead had every intention of running you down in the road. However, with an annoyed grunt and a roll of his eyes, he came to a quick, jerky stop.

“You…”

“You’re not leaving me. You’re not leaving me!” You yelled, slamming your palms into the metal of his vehicle.

“You…you really are a pain in the ass.”

Just as the Joker exited his vehicle, an eighteen wheeler pulled up behind him.

“I have done everything you said. Every test, every trial, every initiation. I have proved I love you. Just accept it.” You pleaded, tears pricking the corner of your shining eyes.

He lifted his hands, “Got it, got it, got it, got it. I am not someone who is loved.”

He clapped his hands in front of your face.

“I’m an idea. A state of mind.”

The eighteen wheeler started honking while the Joker spoke. But it didn’t deter him.

“I execute my will according to my plan and you, doctor, are not part of my plan.”

He had done a complete circle around you and was now standing back in front of you, so you pulled your hands up to touch his face. His skin felt nice against your own, almost like they were made for each other and you wondered why he didn’t see that.

Once again, the eighteen wheeler honked this time more frequently.

“Let me in,” you pleaded, “just let me in. I promise I won’t hurt you!”

He had pulled himself away from you, laughing at your words just as the trucker exited the drivers seat of the eighteen wheeler.

“A promise, promise…ha…ha…ha…”

“Hey dickface!” The trucker yelled, “Mind screaming at your bitch somewhere else.”

The Joker continued to laugh, completely ignoring the trucker. Your mind moved on its own and soon the Joker’s personalized gun was removed from his leather jacket. It floated through the air before your mind pulled the trigger, shooting the asshole who was interrupting your conversation. His body fell to the ground with a thud.

“I was gonna say,” the Joker said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He had stolen a quick glance at the dead trucker before returning his gaze to you, this time the floating gun pointed directly at him. The cool metal barely grazed his deathly pale flesh. He rested his forehead against the barrel of the gun and raised his hands up playfully, grinning.

“Don’t hurt me,” he joked, “I’ll be your friend.”

You held your gaze, never tearing your eyes away from the gun letting it continue to float as your mind willed it to do. The Joker hummed, his voice deepening as his smile and joking behavior disappeared.

“Do it. Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it.”

“My heart scares you,” you gritted, “but a gun doesn’t?”

“Do it!”

But you couldn’t and he knew you couldn’t. So within a mere second, he snatched his gun out of the air and your mind stopped buzzing. A headache growing from the overuse of your ability. You were mentally exhausted and the Joker could only laugh, pushing his own gun against the side of his head.

“God, if you weren’t so crazy, I’d think you were insane.”

He was glaring at you now, his expression dark and uncalculating. A few tears slipped off of your face and dropped onto the ground as you stared at the man you told yourself you loved. Even now.

“Go. Away.” He said.

He left you standing there, getting back in his Lamborghini and driving off. You choked back a few sobs, using the back of your hand to wipe away your tears before walking in the opposite direction he had driven off in. What you didn’t see was the Joker watching you through his rear view mirror. Even though he kept trying to deny it, you were interesting and the more interesting he thought you were, the more captivated he felt by your presence. He knew you loved him but he wasn’t sure how he felt about you. He took his eyes off of you for a split second and when he tried to look at you again, you were gone. It was almost like you had never been there, at least that’s what he would have thought had the dead trucker not been laying in the road still.

Grumbling to himself and slamming his hands against the steering wheel, the Joker pulled a sharp u-turn, the tires screeching against the cement road. Hitting the gas pedal as hard as he could, the Joker sped off to find you, wondering why he couldn’t keep you out of his own thoughts.

He found you not too far away from where the two of you had conversed. You had your arms wrapped around your body as you walked, sulking harder with each step. Quickly, almost harshly, the Joker yanked his car in front of you causing you to stop walking. Your eyes widened as he climbed out of the driver's seat and made his way to the passenger’s seat. Quirking an eyebrow upwards, you watched as he opened the door and looked at you.

“Well,” he muttered when you didn’t move, “get in.”

It was a small gesture, even after your conversation with him just a second ago, but you still smiled hard and hopped into the passenger’s side. He closed the door behind you, got back in his own seat, and sped off, not telling you where the two of you were headed.

You weren’t expecting to be taken to a chemical plant. The words “Ace Chemicals'” faded into the building walls telling you this place had been out of use for some time. It smelled too and you had to hold your breath until you could stomach whatever that stench was.

The Joker watched you intently as your eyes wandered taking in everything it passed. He was fascinated by how curious your little head could be but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

Finally the two of you reached a room that was layered with nine vats of chemicals at the bottom. The Joker and you were standing on top of the black, metal that held you above the acid. The metal was slick with water from whatever but really it was as safe as could be. You followed the Joker to the edge before peering down at the vats of chemicals that covered the floor. They were bubbly and made weird hissing noises making you wonder if they were incredibly hot.

“Question,” the Joker started causing you to look away from the chemicals and up at him, “would you die for me?”

“Yes.”

You didn’t even hesitate with your answer.

“That’s too easy,” he muttered, “would you…would you live for me?”

The question meant something so different than his first. Life was cruel and there were so many things to hate about life, dying was easy because there was no suffering. So in a sense, he was asking you if you’d suffer for him. Which you would.

“Hmm?”

“Yes.”

“Careful,” he whispered, “do not say this oath thoughtlessly.”

He brought his tattooed hand up to your face, his fingers grazing your cheeks causing you to shiver. His touch had you so intoxicated that it felt like you were drunk from a whole day's worth of drinking.

“Desire becomes surrender, surrender becomes…power.”

His fingers traced over your face, slowly sliding down the sides of your cheeks barely gripping your chin until he rested his finger against your lips. His eyes flickered hungrily at your mouth and you desperately wanted to close the gap between the two of you.

“You want this?”

Again, you didn’t hesitate. “I do.”

He tilted his head back, keeping his hand on you.

“Say it,” he rasped, “say it. Say it. Pretty, pretty, pretty…”

His voice got softer until it faded and you felt your heart throb with both love and lust.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“God,” he chirped, “you’re so…good.”

He gestured to the edge of where you two were standing. You walked over to it and peered down at the vats of chemicals again. Your logic was screaming at you to change your mind but you couldn’t afford to listen to it. You were almost there, he was almost yours entirely. All you had to do was fall into the chemical and he’d have you. You turned to face the Joker, his eyes watching you intently. You extended your arms before falling backwards letting gravity carry you. The cool air felt nice against your skin as you plummeted; your eyes fluttered close as you thought about all of the things that you were about to experience. While most people would be terrified if they were in this current situation, you found peace with it.

The Joker peered over the edge and watched your body splash into the dangerous liquid. He had finally done it. He’d gotten rid of you. He turned on his heel and headed towards the exit. However he wasn’t able to make it past a few steps as he remembered all of the kind things you had done for him throughout his time of knowing you. Using your telekinesis, you had given him a small amount of freedom from the straight jacket he’d been chained up in for months. You didn’t snap at him or say anything to him out of anger like most the doctors did, you seemed to actually care for him. Even after he tricked you into giving him the machine gun and using the electroshock therapy on you, you still wanted him. And for some reason that filled the Joker with a sense of guilt that he didn’t even think he could feel. With a low growl, the Joker removed his leather jacket hurriedly and went back to the ledge where he jumped in after you.

He reached forward and took hold of your sinking body, pulling you tightly against his body. You fit perfectly against his muscular frame. The two of you floated back to the top, the Joker’s lips on yours filling your lungs with life. You let out a soft gasp as he pulled away, your eyes staring into his as you searched for a trick but you couldn’t find one. He leaned down again, your fingers finding their way to the back of his head, and the two of you kissed.

After only seconds, the Joker pulled away, keeping you wrapped in his arms, and started laughing. The color from your clothes mixing with his. You smiled, pulling yourself closer to him. He was yours, and you were his. Forever.

[tsahik-cherry]

[one-shot] I see you, brother 𓏲ּ𝄢

This is Pt.2 of i see you,sister

Pairing: female!Sully reader x Sully family, female!Sully reader x Neteyam

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, grief, war themes.

Summary: Loss of the eldest daughter and big sister had been difficult for sully family, especially her twin brother, but what happens when eywa decides that it’s not the end for her?

Words: 5.3k

જ⁀➴

…Weeks later after your death…

The Marui was shrouded in the deep blues of the eclipse. The rest of the family was asleep, or pretending to be. Neteyam was staring at the roof of the tent, Lo’ak was curled tight in a ball, and Jake sat by the entrance, keeping watch with a hardened stare white stripe of paint covering middle of his face and chest.

Neytiri sat in the corner, the light of a single bioluminescent lamp illuminating her hands.

In her lap lay the Songcord.

It was long, winding through years of memories. She traced the beads of her own life, then moved to the smaller cords attached to hers her children's. Her fingers trembled as they found yours. She touched the first bead. The birth. She remembered the chaos of it, the double heartbeat. Her two babies You and Neteyam.

She moved her fingers down. Your first steps,First hunt,The time you fell from the tree, The time you caught your first fish. And then, her fingers stopped at the end.

A new bead was added,It was a pearl, dark and iridescent, harvested from the depths of the Cove of the Ancestors,She brought the cord to her chest, rocking slowly back and forth. The melody started low in her throat, a vibration before it became a sound. It was the melody she had hummed to you when you were inside her, and the melody she sang when she held you for the first time.

“Zola’u nìprrte’ ma y/n”(Welcome, my Y/n)

“Ngati oel munge soaiane “(I welcome you to our family)

“Lie si oe atanur”(I experience the light)

“Pähem parul, tì’ongokx ’awtuta”(The miracle arrives, a birth out of one person)

“Lawnol a mì te’lan”(A great joy ,which is in the heart)

“Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe, tonìri tìreyä Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe, srrìri tìreyä”(We give thanks for the nights of life ,We give thanks for the days of life)

"My fierce heart... my warrior true."

She squeezed the pearl tight, her eyes closing as she pictured your face the smile that was exactly like Neteyam's, but sharper, wilder.

"A father protects and A mother protects..."

"But the water calls and the spirit connects."

"You faced the fire... you welcomed death."

Her voice hitched, turning into a low, keening wail that she quickly stifled, forcing it back into the melody.

"Where are you now?... My beautiful child, my light?"

"With Eywa you sleep.. with Eywa you stay."

"Until I come... to guide your way."

Neytiri stopped singing. The silence that followed was louder than the song.

She looked down at the Songcord one last time. In the past, she sang to celebrate your life ,but tonight, she sang to acknowledge the end of it.

And actoss the tent, Neteyam turned over. He hadn't been sleeping. He had been listening. He let out a shaky breath, pulling his knees to his chest.

જ⁀➴

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving Pandora bathed in the bioluminescent glow of the eclipse. The ocean was a mirror of the stars, but tonight, Neteyam wasn't looking up. He was looking down.

He sat on rock that jutted out over the Cove of the Ancestors. Below the surface, deep in the trench, the Spirit Tree pulsed with a rhythmic, ethereal light,It was a heartbeat,your heartbeat, now joined with Eywa.

Neteyam ran a hand over his chest. The white ochre paint felt dry and tight against his skin, cracking as he breathed. He felt phantom pains in his chest. You two had been twins. You had shared a womb, shared a childhood, shared a rhythm of existence and now, there was just silence on his right side. A void where your presence used to hum.

The sound of footsteps scuffing against rock broke his trance. He didn't turn , He knew who it was . Heavy, hesitant, dragging with guilt.

"Bro?"

Neteyam exhaled smoke into the cool air. "Hey, little bro."

Lo'ak moved slowly, as if afraid he was intruding. He sat down a few feet away, pulling his knees to his chest. His eyes were red-rimmed, the dark circles under them stark against his blue skin. For a long time, neither spoke,The only sound was the gentle lap of water against the stone and the distant chittering of night creatures.

"I can't see her down there," Lo'ak whispered eventually, his voice thick. "But I know she's there."

"She's there," Neteyam confirmed, his voice flat. "With the ancestors. Probably telling them how to run things."

Lo'ak let out a weak, wet chuckle that died quickly. He picked at a loose piece of moss on the rock. "It should have been me, Neteyam."

Neteyam’s jaw tightened. "Don't."

"I'm serious," Lo'ak insisted, the tears finally spilling over, cutting tracks through the white paint on his cheeks. "I’m the one who wanted to go back. I’m the one who got us pinned down on that ship. She...was hit because of me…that bullet... it was for me."

"It was chaos, Lo'ak," Neteyam said, turning to look at his younger brother. His own eyes were burning, but he refused to let them fall. “”We all were targets."

"But she was covering me." Lo'ak wiped his nose aggressively. "She was always covering me,and you and she never stopped moving Even when she was bleeding... she pushed me onto the tulkun first."

Neteyam looked back at the glowing water. The memory of that moment was painful shard in his mind ,the way the light faded from your eyes so terrifyingly fast. As a twin, he had felt the exact moment the cord was cut. He had felt his soul tear in half.

"I was the oldest," Neteyam said softly. "By five minutes. But I was the oldest. It was my job,Dad said... protect the family. That’s all I had to do." He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. "I was right there,I was right next to her,I should have been faster."

"You couldn't have—"

"I should have taken the hit!" Neteyam snapped, his voice cracking, the soldier facade finally crumbling. "She was my other half, Lo'ak! You don't understand... it’s like walking around with one lung. Like I failed her."

They sat in the heavy silence of their shared guilt. The weight of it was suffocating, enough to drown them both right there on the rocks.

Then, a sudden breeze swept through the cove, ruffling their braids

Neteyam took a shuddering breath then He looked at Lo'ak, who was burying his face in his knees.

"You know what she’d say if she saw us right now?" Neteyam asked quietly.

Lo'ak sniffled, looking up. "What?"

"She’d kick our asses," Neteyam said. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, a painful, tiny smile.

Lo'ak blinked, and then a genuine, albeit watery, smile broke through. " yeah,Yeah, she would."

"She’d walk right up to you," Neteyam continued, his voice gaining a little strength as the memory of you washed over him, "and she’d flick that spot on your forehead.

"And she’d call me a skxawng," Lo'ak added, letting out a breathy laugh. "She’d say, 'Baby brother, stop crying and load the damn magazine.'"

"She’d tell me to fix my face," Neteyam laughed, the sound rusty but real. "Remember when we got caught sneaking out to the Hallelujah Mountains? And Dad was losing his mind?"

"And she stood in front of us," Lo'ak remembered, shaking his head. "She told Dad it was her idea. That she wanted to see the ikran nests,She tried to take the grounding for both of us."

"And then she hit us both in the back of the head as soon as Dad walked away," Neteyam chuckled, wiping a tear from his cheek. "She said, 'If you two idiots get me grounded during the eclipse festival, I will skin you alive.'"

Lo'ak laughed, leaning back on his hands. "She hated it when we got mopey,Remember when I crashed the ilu during training? I was sitting on the beach feeling sorry for myself, and she literally threw a fish at my head."

"A live fish," Neteyam corrected, grinning. "It slapped you right in the face."

"She said, 'The ocean doesn't care about your feelings, Lo'ak. Get back in the water.'" The laughter faded into a comfortable, warm silence. It wasn't the heavy silence of before. It was filled with your presence.

"She wouldn't want this," Neteyam said, gesturing to their slumped postures, the despair radiating off them. "She wouldn't want us sitting here, blaming ourselves for something she chose to do."

"She chose to save us," Lo'ak whispered.

"Yeah," Neteyam agreed, looking down at the spirit tree one last time. "She was stubborn like that. She never let anyone else have the last word. Including the Sky People."

Neteyam stood up, his legs stiff. He reached a hand down to Lo'ak.

"Come on," Neteyam said. "Mom needs us. And if we stay out here looking like wet feral cats, she's going to haunt us."

Lo'ak took his brother's hand and pulled himself up. He looked at the water, then at Neteyam. "Sullys stick together?"

Neteyam gripped Lo'ak's hand tight, pulling him into a rough embrace, resting his forehead against his brother's.

"Sullys stick together," Neteyam whispered.

જ⁀➴

The woven walls of the Marui blocked out the wind, but they couldn't block out the cold that had settled in the center of the room.

Neytiri sat on the floor, surrounded by the small, tangible remnants of a life cut short and In her hands, she held a woven top one of yours,that she made for you. It was stained with sea salt and dried blood ,She ran her long fingers over the stitching, tracing the pattern where the beads had been sewn in. She wasn't crying crying anymore , her face emotionless, eyes staring at a spot on the fabric as if trying to conjure the warmth of the skin that used to be underneath it.

Across from her, Jake sat cross-legged, his movements sharp and precise.

He was working on her arrows ,He was meticulously binding a small, explosive charge to the tip of a long reed shaft, his hands were steady, but his jaw was clenched so hard a muscle feathered beneath the white stripe on his cheek.

They hadn’t spoken since he returned from the beach, The air was thick with the words they were too afraid to say. If they spoke her name, she was truly gone,If they stayed silent, maybe she was just sleeping in the other room.

Jake finished the binding and picked up the heavy blackened bow, Neytiri’s bow, the one Lo'ak had retrieved. He had restrung it.

He moved across the mats, his knees cracking slightly. He set the bow down gently in front of her, placing the explosive tipped arrow beside it.

"I know you won’t give up your bow" Jake said, his voice rough, sounding too loud in the quiet space.thhen he put arrows in front of her. "Keep a good distance when you hit it"

Neytiri finally looked at the weapon. Her hand trembled as she reached out, picked up arrow ,but slowly dropped it closing her eyes.

"You bring fire to a house of water," she whispered.

"I bring you a way to kill them," Jake said, the desperation leaking into his tone. "When they come back. Because they will."

"Is that all there is, Ma Jake?" Her eyes rose to meet his, and they were endless pools of grief.

"It’s my job," Jake snapped, the guilt flaring up like a struck match. He sat back on his heels, running a hand through his hair. "I’m supposed to keep this family safe. That is the one thing... the one thing I am supposed to do. And I failed."

"We fought," Neytiri said softly.

"We ran!" Jake’s voice broke. "We ran from the forest to save them, and I just brought the war here. I put her in the line of fire." He looked down at his hands, seeing blood that wasn't there. "I look at Eywa... I look at this spirit tree... and I don't see a plan, Neytiri. I see a grave. Where was she? Where was the Great Mother when our daughter was bleeding on that deck?"

Neytiri’s posture stiffened. She dropped the shirt and grabbed Jake’s wrist, her grip iron-tight.

"Do not," she hissed. "Do not speak of Her with that poison in your heart."

"She took my child!" Jake yelled, the sound echoing off the water outside. "She took our baby!"

"She is holding our baby!" Neytiri screamed back, her voice shattering the stillness.

The anger drained out of her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a wave of agony so profound she doubled over,She clutched her chest, right over her heart, gasping for air.

"Faith..." Neytiri sobbed, her voice crumbling into broken pieces. "Faith is all I have right now, Ma Jake. If I do not believe she is with the Great Mother... if I do not believe she is safe within the eywa..." She looked at him, tears finally cutting through the white paint on her face. "Then she is just gone. And if she is just gone, I will die."

She picked up the shirt again, burying her face in it, inhaling the fading scent of you. "I cannot hear her," she wailed, a sound of pure, maternal torture. "I listen to the shell, I listen to the wind... my baby,My first daughter,She was part of me.“

Jake stared at her, his composure turning to ash.

He moved forward, collapsing the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her shuddering body against his chest.

"I know," Jake choked out, burying his face in her neck, his own tears finally falling, hot and fast. "I know, baby. I know."

Neytiri clung to him, her fingers digging into his back, wailing into his shoulder. They rocked back and forth on the woven mat, the deadly bow forgotten on the floor beside them, two parents drowning in the ocean of their loss, holding onto each other to keep from going under.

જ⁀➴

The sky was the color of a bruise a swirling mix of smoke, storm clouds, and the unnatural orange glow of burning ships. The Metkayina village of Awa’atlu was in ruins. The RDA’s new fabrication modules, bolstered by the terrifying aggression of the Ash People clan lead by their tsahik Varang , had pushed the reef clans to the breaking point.

Jake fired his last magazine, the recoil jarring his exhausted shoulder. He threw the empty rifle down and drew his axe. Beside him, Neteyam was fighting like a demon, He moved with a reckless speed, cutting down Ash warriors who tried to board their commandeered skimwing.

But there were too many of them.

"Fall back!" Jake roared, his voice hoarse. "Get to the rocks! Loa’k stay with your sisters!"not knowing he was already out in the sky.

Neytiri was screaming in rage, her bow singing death, but even she was being forced back. The RDA Recoms were advancing, their heavy machine guns tearing through the cover. The Ash People, coated in gray dust and wielding obsidian edged spears, surged forward like a tide of darkness.

"Ma jake It’s over," Neytiri gasped, holding onto her ikran.

They were trapped against the cliff edge. The ocean raged below, churned up by the engines of the demon ships,Hope was a dying ember ,They had fought for weeks, fueled by grief and vengeance, but vengeance could not stop bullets.

In the center of the chaos, Kiri dropped to her knees. She didn't pick up a weapon. She grabbed her queue, her hands shaking, and slammed the neural connection into a patch of bioluminescent moss clinging to the rock.

"Ma Eywa," she screamed, and walked towards light , trying to resist the powerful wind ,which was holding her back. "Hear me! You took my sister! You took our heart! Do not take our home too! HEAR ME!"then spider and joined her , to walk towards light. The battlefield went silent for a split second, a vacuum of sound.

Then, the planet answered.

It started as a vibration in the teeth, a hum in the bones, The water erupted. Hundreds of Tulkun breached the surface simultaneously, their armored bodies acting as living shields against the RDA ships. They weren't just the outcast Payakan this time,it was the pod. From the sky, the clouds broke. A screeching wall of sound descended as thousands of Ikran, storm gliders, and even the smaller stingbats dived. They were wild, and they swarmed the Ash People's aircraft, clogging the rotors with their bodies, tearing at the cockpits with talons.

"Eywa..." Kiri breathed, watching a massive payakan launch itself onto the deck of a Sea Dragon, crushing a squad of soldiers. "She answered." The tide of battle shifted violently. The people on RDA shops panicked. The Ash warriors looked to the sky in fear.

But the greatest miracle wasn't happening on the surface. It was happening deep, deep below.

The water here was usually still, but today, the Spirit Tree was thrashing. Its glowing tendrils, usually a soft calming violet, were pulsing with a blinding, golden white light.

You floated there, suspended in the roots. You had been dead for weeks,Your skin was pale, your eyes closed, your chest still. The sea life had begun to claim you,tiny luminescent barnacles dotted your arm guards, and sea grass was woven through your hair.

But Kiri’s scream had traveled through and It had hit the Spirit Tree like a lightning bolt.

Eywa, the Great Mother, does not give and take in the way humans understand. She maintains the balance,She holds all energy,But sometimes... sometimes the energy is too fierce to be held and Sometimes, a warrior's song is not finished.

The roots wrapped tighter around your waist and chest,the golden light intensified, becoming searingly hot.

The bullet wound in your chest the dark, ugly hole that had stolen your life began to glow and heal,The tissue knitted together. The blood, stagnant in your veins, was suddenly charged with bio-energy.

Just then your heart gave a single, violent kick.

The water around you vibrated,the energy transferred from the Tree into you,It was a jolt, a shock of life more painful than the death had been.

Your eyes snapped open.

જ⁀➴

The sky above the was a churning cauldron of black smoke and screaming engines.

Neteyam urged his Ikran, into a steep dive ,the wind roared in his ears, tearing at his braids,He was exhausted. his quiver was down to his last three arrows, and his heart was hammering against his ribs ,not with fear, but with a hollow, desperate acceptance.

He was fighting like a man who had nothing left to lose. Since you died, a part of him had been trying to find a way to join you without dishonoring the family.

"Break right!" Lo’ak’s voice crackled over the comms, breathless and panicked.

Neteyam banked hard, narrowly missing a burst of machinegun fire from an RDA SA-2. He returned fire, his arrow piercing the cockpit glass, sending the pilot into a spin.

But the Ash People were different. They didn't fight with machines,they fought with hate and fire.

An Ash warrior, riding a massive, scarred mountain banshee with skin the color of charcoal, surged up from the smoke below,He was painted in grey and ochre.

Neteyam pulled back his bowstring, but his fingers slipped on the sweat and blood. The shot went wide.

Damn it.

He tried to reload, but his banshee shrieked, barrel rolling to avoid the Ash warrior’s spear. The maneuver disoriented Neteyam for a split second.

In that second, he lost the advantage and the Ash warrior banked sharply, disappearing into a cloud of thick, oily smoke. Neteyam scanned the horizon, his chest heaving. "Where is he..."

The Ash warrior had pulled a silent loop and was now hovering directly at Neteyam’s right, the warrior raised a modified RDA rifle a heavy, ugly thing meant to tear through a bone.

Neteyam yanked on the neural queue, trying to dive, but he knew he was too late ,He stared down the barrel of the gun. The Ash warrior grinned, a cruel expression.

Time seemed to slow down. Neteyam squeezed his eyes shut.

But bullets never came, instead a piercing cry shattered the air,It wasn't the guttural roar of the Ash banshees. It was a high, musical, terrifyingly familiar shriek.

Neteyam’s eyes snapped open From above, a streak of blue and yellow appeared. It was your Ikran. It had been missing since your death, vanished into the wild, but now it was here, diving with a speed that defied physics.

And it wasn't empty.

You sat there, effortless in the saddle. You were soaking wet. Your hair was loose, loating in the wind. Sea water dripped from your nose and chin But the most terrifying, beautiful thing was your eyes. They were burning with a fierce, electric gold energy, the same energy that flowed through the Spirit Tree.

You lowered your bow, resting it on your thigh. A small, crooked smirk the one you used to give him when you beat him in a race tugged at the corner of your mouth.

"Hello, big bro," you said, your voice raspy from the water but undeniably, miraculously alive. "You look like shit."

Neteyam’s mouth opened, but no sound came out,His hands shook so hard he almost dropped his bow.

"Y/N?" he choked out, the name tearing from his throat like a sob.

"The one and only," you winked, though your eyes softened as you looked at his terrified face. You gestured with your chin toward the battle raging below. "Now, are we going to finish this, or are you going to keep staring at me like I’m a ghost?"

Suddenly, the emptiness in Neteyam’s chest the void that had been there for weeks slammed shut.

He felt your pulse,and let out a wet, hysterical laugh, wiping tears and soot from his face. He gripped his bow, feeling strength flood back into his limbs.

"Let's kill them all," Neteyam said “Sully’s stick together!”

"Lead the way, Ma 'eylan," you replied.

જ⁀➴

The battle had bled out into a smoky, trembling silence, the ash people had retreated, fading back into the volcanic smog like ghosts.

Quaritch, battered and outmatched by the renewed ferocity of the Sullys, had chosen fire over capture, plummeting into a burning ravine rather than facing Neytiri’s blade.

On a large, flat outcropping of rock jutting from the sea, the Sully family reunited. they were a wreck,Jake was favoring his left leg, his chest heaving. Neytiri was wiping black soot from her face, her eyes scanning the sky frantically for her children. Lo’ak was sitting on the ground, holding his head, while Kiri and Tuk clung to each other.

"They're coming!" Tuk squeaked, pointing upward.

Two Ikrans broke through the haze. One was Neteyam’s familiar teal mount. The other was a beast they hadn’t seen in weeks a darker, sleeker creature that had vanished the day you died.

Jake stiffened, his hand instinctively going to his knife,his eyes narrowing. He recognized the mount, but his mind couldn't process why it was here because It should have been in wild. The Ikrans landed heavy and hard, their talons scraping against the stone. Neteyam slid off his mount first, He didn't look like a soldier who had just survived a war,He looked like a man who had seen Eywa,He was grinning a wide, tear-streaked grin that looked manic on his face.

He didn't walk to them ,He turned back to the other Ikran, He reached up a hand, offering it to the rider. "Careful sister," Neteyam said, his voice carrying clearly across the silence. "You're still getting your land legs back."

Neytiri froze,her bow slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against the rock.You landed on the rock with a soft thud. You were soaking wet, your skin glistening with sea water and a strange, faint bioluminescent sheen that seemed to pulse in time with a heartbeat.

But there was no blood. There was no hole in your chest,Just a swirling, golden pattern of energy where the bullet had been, glowing softly against your blue skin, you looked at them, your golden eyes adjusting to the faces of the people who had buried you.

"Sa’nok,Sempul," you whispered, your voice raspy and small. "I... I think I took a really long nap."

For a span of five seconds, nobody moved, the wind whistled through the rocks. Then, Neytiri made a raw, guttural noise of pure, agonizing disbelief.

"No..." she breathed, stumbling forward,Her hands shook violently. She looked at Jake, as if asking him to wake her from this cruel dream. "Ma Jake...?"

Jake was paralyzed, he was staring at you, his warrior's mask completely shattered. His lower lip trembled. He blinked rapidly, tears spilling over, washing clean tracks through the war paint on his cheeks.

"Baby girl?" Jake choked out, the name barely audible.

You took a hesitant step forward, and that broke the spell.

Neytiri lunged she threw herself at you, She collided with you, dropping to her knees and dragging you down with her, burying her face in your wet, cold stomach. Her hands were everywhere touching your face, your arms, your hair, frantically searching for the wound, checking for the blood that wasn't there.

"Oh, Great Mother... oh, my sweet child... my heart...my daughter " Neytiri sobbed, her voice breaking into wails of hysteria and joy. She gripped you so tight it bruised, terrified that if she let go, you would turn into sea foam and vanish.

"Mom, I'm okay," you cried, tears finally spilling from your golden eyes as you wrapped your arms around her trembling shoulders. "I'm okay,She sent me back,I'm here."

Jake fell to his knees beside you. He wrapped his massive arms around both you and Neytiri, pulling you into his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of the ocean and the ozone smell of Eywa's energy,He sobbed openly, a deep, heaving sound that shook his entire frame.

"I got you," Jake whispered over and over, rocking you. "I got you,I'm not letting go. I'm never letting go."

"Y/N!"

Lo’ak crashed into the pile next, tackling you from the side and he was crying so hard he couldn't speak, just pressing his forehead against your shoulder, gripping your arm.

"I thought—I thought it was my fault," Lo’ak gasped, his voice wrecked. "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry."

"Shut up, skxawng," you laughed through your sobs, freeing a hand to smack the back of his head lightly. "It wasn't your fault. Never your fault." Tuk squeezed in, burrowing into the center of the mass, wailing your name, You kissed the top of her head, feeling the warmth of your family, the solid reality of them.

Only Neteyam stood back, just for a moment, watching. He was crying silently, his chest rising and falling with relief ,He looked at Kiri.

Kiri stood a few feet away. She wasn't crying,She was smiling, a serene, knowing smile. She walked over slowly, crouching down. She didn't hug you immediately,Instead, she placed her hand over the glowing, golden swirl on your chest.

She closed her eyes, feeling the pulse of the Great Mother beating beneath your ribs. "She wasn't ready to say goodbye," Kiri whispered softy. You looked up at Kiri and smiled. "She told me I had work to do."

Jake pulled back, just an inch, cupping your face in his large hands. He looked into your eyes those new, electric eyes and saw the fire of the planet burning in them. He wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

"I see you, my daughter," Jake said, his voice thick with a gratitude he could never express in words.

"I see you, Dad," you replied.

Neytiri pulled you back down, refusing to share you for another second. The Sully’s were whole once again.

….Week later….

You sat on a large, flat rock that jutted out over the drop off, your legs dangling into the cool water.

You were looking down through the clear water, you could see the distant, glowing of the Spirit Tree.

You absently touched the center of your chest the skin there felt different now warmer than the rest of you,The golden swirl where the bullet had been pulsed softly, a second heartbeat against your fingertips.

"Mom says you shouldn't be out here alone."

You didn't jump, because you had felt him coming long before he spoke.

Neteyam stepped onto the rock, He sat down next to you, close enough that your shoulders brushed.

"I'm not alone," you said quietly, your voice still carrying a slight rasp from the seawater. "I'm with you."

Neteyam let out a breath, leaning back on his hands. He followed your gaze down into the abyss.

"Does it..." He hesitated, struggling with the words. "Does it scare you? Looking at it?"

"No," you answered honestly. "It looks like... home. In a weird way. It’s quiet down there, Neteyam, There’s no war there ,no sky people ,no pain”

Neteyam looked at you then, he looked tired, dark circles under his eyes hadn't fully faded, even after a week of peace. "It was too quiet up here," he whispered.

He looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. "When the bond snapped... it wasn't a noise,It was just... silence. Like half the world just turned off,I kept reaching for you, out of habit. Every time I saw something funny, or stupid, or dangerous, I’d reach out to push the feeling to you,and there was just...nothing."

He turned his head away, staring out at the horizon,”I thought I went crazy. Mom was quiet and Dad was trying to keep us moving... and I was just standing there, feeling half a person."

You reached out, covering his hand with yours "I heard you," you said softly. Neteyam looked back at you, eyes wide. "What?" "In the tree," you said. "It wasn't words ,It was... feelings and I felt you drowning,I felt your guilt,It was so heavy, Neteyam. It was pulling me back down." You squeezed his hand. "That’s part of why I woke up,You were being so loud, big brother. You wouldn't let me sleep."

A tear slipped down Neteyam’s cheek. He let out a wet, shaky laugh. "So I annoyed you back to life?"

"Basically," you smiled, bumping your shoulder against his. "You and Mom,She was singing and It vibrated through the roots,It tickled."

The humor faded quickly, replaced by a heavy solemnity,Neteyam turned his hand over, interlacing his fingers with yours. He gripped tight, as if checking your pulse through your palm.

"I failed you," he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper "My one job was to protect the family. And I watched you take a bullet meant for me."

"Neteyam, stop," you said firmly, turning to face him, your golden eyes flared slightly, a visual echo of your emotions. "You didn't fail, You fought, we fought, That's what we do. I didn't jump in front of you because I wanted to be a hero,I did it because..." You paused, searching for the words. "Because a world without you isn't one I wanted to live in anyway."

Neteyam stared at you, his jaw working. "You can't do that again,You can't leave me here to explain to dad why his daughter is gone."

"I don't plan on it," you said,You looked back down at the glowing tree. "Eywa sent me back for a reason, Neteyam. I don't know what it is yet, Maybe it’s just to annoy you. Maybe it’s to fight the enemy,But I know one thing."

"What?"

"I’m not the same," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly for the first time,”I feel... old and I feel the water moving before the waves crash, I feel the Tulkun miles away,It’s a lot of noise inside my head now."

You looked at him, vulnerability cracking your calm mask. "I need you to help me stay grounded, ma Teyam. If I start drifting... you have to pull me back.

Neteyam shifted, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, resting his chin on the top of your head, right between your ears."I got you," he vowed, the vibration of his chest rumbling against you.

He held you there for a long time, listening to the water lapping against the rock.

"Your eyes are weird now, though," Neteyam mumbled into your hair, ruining the moment intentionally. "You look like a furious owl."

You elbowed him in the ribs, hard. He grunted but didn't let go. "And you look like a skxawng who needs a haircut," you shot back.

"Good," Neteyam exhaled, squeezing you tighter. "You're definitely still you."

"Yeah," you whispered, closing your eyes and leaning into his warmth, finally feeling the cold of the grave leave your bones. "I'm still me."

“I see you ,y/n”

“I see you ,brother”

જ⁀➴

Side note: soo i did what I couldn’t do with movies, i reunited Sully’s🥹

Twin idea came from my younger sisters, they are twins, and growing up with them taught me that there isn’t stronger bond than twin siblings have, they are basically inseparable, and I can’t imagine them being without each other.

And also excuse my poor writing. I searched up lot of words in dictionary 🥲

© 2026 tsahik-cherry

[tsahik-cherry]

[one-shot]I see you, sister 𓏲ּ𝄢

Female!Sully!reader x Sully family

Summary: You are the eldest daughter, Neteyam’s twin sister, the one who always stood shoulder to shoulder with him to protect the others. But when the bullets fly, it isn’t the Golden Boy who gets hit. It’s you.

Warnings: Death, heavy angst, descriptions of blood/wounds, grief.

Words:2.5k

Check out pt.2 I see you,brother

જ⁀➴

The air smelled of burning fuel and salt. It was a sensory overload ,the screaming of the Tulkun, the mechanical whine of the RDA ships, and the thundering beat of your own heart against your ribs.

"Go,Go, go!" Neteyam’s voice was barking over the chaos. You were right beside him. As always. That was the deal. You came into this world holding hands, the firstborn twins of Toruk Makto, and you moved through life as a single unit. Two halves of the same spear,as your grandmother called it.

You grabbed Spider, shoving him toward the railing, checking over your shoulder for Lo’ak. "Move, Lo’ak! do not look back!" you screamed, your voice cracking from the smoke.

Just then the RDA soldiers on the upper deck opened fire. The sound was deafening. Bullets ripped through the metal railing, sending sparks showering down like angry fireflies. You saw Lo’ak flinch, saw Neteyam duck. Instinct took over ,You didn't think twice. You just moved. You shifted your weight, throwing yourself into the space between the muzzle flashes and your brothers.

…

It wasn't a loud noise. It was a dull, wet thud. Like a stone hitting thick mud. The impact spun you around, a burst of white ,hot shock hitting your chest, but the adrenaline was so high you barely registered it as pain. It felt like a heavy punch. You gasped, the air catching in your throat, but you forced your legs to work.

"Jump!" Neteyam roared.

You dove after him. The cool embrace of the water usually felt like home, like Eywa’s arms, but today it felt heavy. You kicked hard, your tail swishing frantically to propel you deep, away from the surface fire.

Swim, you told yourself. Just swim to the rocks.But your limbs felt like they were filled with sand. every stroke was a labor. You surfaced behind the jagged rocks, gasping for air that didn't seem to want to fill your lungs.

Neteyam popped up first, shaking the water from his braids, his golden eyes wide . He immediately scanned the group. "Lo’ak? Spider? You guys good?"

"Yeah bro," Lo’ak panted, clinging to the rock. "Yeah, we’re clear."

Neteyam turned to you. His grin was breathless, fueled by the survival high. "that was too close. You okay, sister?"

You tried to smile back. You tried to give him that signature smirk, the one that said I’m invincible, but your lips felt numb. You pulled yourself up onto the rock, intending to stand, but your knees buckled. "I think..." You wheezed, your hand moving to your chest. Your fingers came away wet. Not with seawater.

The bioluminescent dots on your skin were stained dark. A thick, crimson slick was spreading across your chest, coating your tactical vest, dripping onto the grey stone.

Neteyam’s smile didn’t just fade; it shattered. "Y/N?"

"I..." You looked down, confusion swirling in your darkening vision. "I think I got hit."

The silence that fell over the boys was louder than the battle behind you.

"No, no, no." Neteyam scrambled over the rocks, his hands hovering over you, terrified to touch, terrified not to. "Lo’ak, help me! Apply pressure! Now!"

You slumped back against the stone, the sky above you spinning in dizzying circles. Lo’ak was there, his hands pressing down on your chest. He was crying. Why was he crying?

As they applied pressure on wound you cried out, a weak, strangled sound. It burned. Eywa, it burned. It felt like someone had shoved a hot coal into your lungs.

"Sorry, sorry, I know, I know," Neteyam sobbed, tears cutting tracks through the war paint on his face. "Just breathe, sister. Just breathe for me."

"I... I can't..." You gasped, your eyes fluttering. The stars above looked blurry. "Teyam... it’s cold."

"You are okay,you are going to be okay." He leaned over you, his braid falling onto your cheek. "Dad! Dad, help!"

The sound of a skimwing screeching overhead tore through the air. You saw the shadow of the Tsurak, and then the heavy thud of your father landing.

"Neteyam! Y/N!" Jake’s voice was commanding, angry, until he saw it.

He saw the blood pooling on the black rock. He saw his two sons holding his eldest daughter, their hands soaked with blood.

"Dad..." Neteyam looked up, his expression broken. "I can't stop it. Dad, I can't stop it."

Jake dropped to his knees.

"Let me see, let me see," Jake said, his voice forcibly calm, though his hands shook as he replaced Neteyams hands with his."I’ve got you. I’ve got you, babygirl."Jake’s voice was trembling in a way you had never heard before. He scooped you up, his large arms cradling you against his chest. "Hang on. Stay with me. Eyes on me, Y/N."

He placed you on the flat expanse of the rock where the family was gathering. The world was tilting.

Neytiri landed on the rock a second later, her bow in hand, fury in her eyes until she saw you. The fury vanished, replaced by a horror so raw it felt like a physical blow. She dropped her bow.

"No..." She fell to her knees beside you, her hands immediately going to the wound, covering Jake’s. "No, no, Great Mother, no..."

She grabbed your face, her hands frantic, stroking your cheeks, your forehead."Evi(child)... my baby, my girl..." Her eyes were wide, frantic, searching yours for a spark that was rapidly fading. "Look at Mother. Look at Mother!"

"Mom..." You tried to smile. You wanted to tell her it was okay. You wanted to tell her you saved Lo’ak. You did your job. You protected the family.

"I... I want to go home," you whispered. The words felt thick in your mouth.

Neytiri let out a sob that wrecked her throat. "Yes, yes, we go home. We go home soon."

"Stay with us, babygirl," Jake commanded, but his voice broke. He was crying. Your strong, invincible father was crying. "Focus on me, Strong heart,You have a strong heart."

But the heart was slowing down.

You looked past your parents, locking eyes with Neteyam. Your twin. Your other half. He was gripping your hand so hard it hurt, his forehead pressed against your knuckles.

You have to lead them now, you thought, projecting it to him as hard as you could. You have to be the strong one alone. I'm sorry.

"Ma Teyam..." you breathed.

"I'm here. I'm right here," he choked out, squeezing your hand. "I’m not leaving you."

The edges of your vision turned black. The pain was receding, replaced by a vast, watery silence. It felt like diving. It felt like connecting to the Spirit Tree.

"I see..." you whispered, your eyes fixing on something none of them could see. "I see... Her."

Your chest hitched once. Twice.

And then, nothing.

The scream that tore from Neytiri’s throat silenced the battle.

It was a wail of such primal agony that even the ocean seemed to still. She collapsed over your chest, burying her face in your neck, rocking back and forth, keening, begging Eywa to give it back, to give you back.

"No! No, no, no!" Neteyam was hitting the rock, screaming, his composure utterly destroyed. He grabbed your shoulders, shaking you gently, as if he could wake you up from a nap. "Wake up! Y/N, wake up!"

Lo’ak stood frozen, tears streaming down his face, staring at blood his hands.

Jake sat back on his heels. He looked hollowed out. He looked old. He reached out, placing a hand on Neteyam’s back to stop him from shaking your body, and then he pulled Neytiri against him, though she fought him, clinging to your shirt.

Moment later Jake looked up, his eyes hardening, the grief turning into a cold, dark rage. He reached out, touching Neytiri’s shoulder, then Neteyam’s. But his gaze was fixed on the ship in the distance.

He stood up, checking his weapon. The tears were still falling, but his face was stone.

He turned Neytiri towards him “we have to be strong for our kids, for our daughters”

Neytiri stood up emotionless picking up her bow ,ready for revenge.

Jake turned to his son, "Neteyam," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Stay back with your brother ."

"No," Neteyam stood up. His eyes were red, wild, filled with the same dark promise as his father’s. He looked down at your body one last time, wiping a smudge of blood from your cheek. "No, sir."

He picked up his knife.

"I’m coming with you."

જ⁀➴

….The air around Neteyam was crisp and cool, smelling of damp earth and moss. The floating mountains of Pandora hung in the mist around him. He looked down and saw his hands, free of the scars he’d collected over the years. He looked at his mount. It wasn't the skimwing he had mastered, but his Ikran.

And just then, he heard it. The sound that haunted his dreams. Sound that he missed dearly.

A sharp, and familiar joyful yip.

Neteyam wipped his head to his left ,There you were.

You were diving through a cloud bank, your Ikran’s wings tucked tight against your body. You looked exactly as you did the day you left the forest ,eyes bright with mischief, alive. So painfully, beautifully alive.

"Keep up, skxawng!" you laughed, the sound vibrating in his chest like a struck bell.

"Y/N!" Neteyam shouted, the name tearing out of his throat. He kicked his heels into his Ikran’s sides, diving after you.

For a moment, the war didn't exist. The RDA, the ash people, the grief ,everything was gone. It was just the two of you.

You leveled out, catching an updraft, and he pulled up right beside you. You flew wingtip to wingtip, so close he could almost reach out and grab your arm. You turned your head and grinned at him, that same smile that he hadn't seen in a mirror for so long.

"You're slow today," you teased, banking hard to the right, leading him on a chase through the stone arches.

He followed you effortlessly. He knew your moves before you made them. It was a dance you had perfected since you were children. He mirrored your dip, your roll, the way you let go of the reins and threw your arms out to embrace the wind.

Finally, you both landed on a high cliff overlooking the vast green canopy of the Omatikaya forest.

You hopped off your Ikran with that graceful bounce, turning to face him. But Neteyam stumbled as he dismounted. He didn't care about the view. He rushed toward you, crashing into you, wrapping his arms around you so tight it would have hurt if this were real.

You froze for a second, then softened, your arms coming up to hold him back. "Hey... hey. I've got you brother." He buried his face in your neck, inhaling the scent of you, He was shaking. "I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts to breathe."

"I know," you whispered, stroking his hair. "I’m with you, Brother. Always." He pulled back, gripping your shoulders, his golden eyes searching yours. The joy of the flight was fading, replaced by the crushing reality of why he was here. "Why did you do it?" he asked, his voice cracking. Your smile faded gently. You didn't pretend not to understand. "Do what?" ,"You took the bullet," Neteyam said, the anger finally bubbling up ,anger at himself. "It was meant for me, You took it for me, You... you stupid skxawng." Tears spilled over his lashes. "I’m the oldest. By three minutes. It was my job to protect you."

You sighed, reaching up to cup his face. Your hands were warm. "We were partners, remember? Two halves. One spear." "The spear is broken without you," he choked out. "No," you said firmly, your thumb brushing away a tear on his cheek. "It’s just got sharper."

You stepped back, looking out over the forest, your expression wise beyond your years. "I didn't think, ma Teyam. I just moved. I saw the fire, I saw our brothers... and my body just knew what to do. I didn't choose to leave you. I chose to save who i love."

"But it’s not fair," Neteyam argued, his voice dropping to a broken whisper. "I’m down there, and I’m trying to be strong for Dad, trying to keep Lo’ak from doing something stupid, trying to comfort Mom... and I’m alone. I turn to tell you something, and you’re not there."

"I am there," you insisted. You stepped closer, pressing your hand flat against his chest, right over his heart. "I am right here. Every time you draw a bow, I’m aiming with you. Every time you fly, I’m the wind under your wings. You are living for both of us now, brother."

Neteyam covered your hand with his own. "I don't want to live for both of us. I want you next to me, i want our full family back."

"But we cant always have what we want can we?," you said softly, sad but accepting. "But you have them. Our little sisters and brothers. They need you. They need Neteyam."

The wind picked up, tugging at your braids. The light around the edges of the cliff began to fade, the violet bioluminescence of the real world bleeding into the dream. "I have to go," he whispered, panic rising in his chest. "I don't want to go."

"You have to," you smiled, and this time, it was the proud smile of a sister looking at a warrior. "Go be Toruk Makto’s son. Go help our family finish this war.”

You stepped back toward your Ikran. "Come back and fly with me when the war is done. But not yet. Not yet, Neteyam."

"I love you,sister" he called out, the world dissolving into white mist.

You mounted your Ikran, looking back over your shoulder, your silhouette glowing against the sun.

"I see you, Brother."…………

જ⁀➴

© 2026 tsahik-cherry

[northmansvamp]

My favourite ❤️

[northmansvamp]

Scott Haran as Thomas Clarke in WVA

[northmansvamp]

Mon Cheri 🩵🩵

(My bias)

[thefernhands]

If you're fifteen or older an still sleep with a stuffed animal please reblog this.

[northmansvamp]

My baby 🩷🩷

[northmansvamp]

Nam Shin ❤️❤️

[northmansvamp]

Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker

[northmansvamp]

Numbers in Roman Numerals ⬆️ (1-100)

What’s your age in RM?? Mine: XXVI

[northmansvamp]

Throne fight scene in SW: The Last Jedi