Wrecked {Stelena Fan Fic}
OK, a couple of my BonKai fan fic readers have expressed interest in some other fan fics I’ve written, particularly Stelena, and at first I refused to show you the ones I wrote (which were just before I did my BonKai fanfiction) but I reread one of them and it isn’t TOO bad so I decided to post it. It was the beginning of season 6 so there are a lot of season 5 references. Stelena is my OTP so I’m actually pretty nervous about this and it’s very angsty but that’s because I love angsty/smouldering/passionate Stelena (I really never understood why ‘smouldering’ was attributed to Delena) Anyway, enjoy! (gif not mine)
Elena closed the door to the Salvatore mansion and ventured further into the house. It was deserted. And quiet. Her footsteps against the creaky floor made the only noise she could hear. Even the fireplace was out, leaving the living room in an eerie darkness that set her on edge.
No one was here. Jeremy didn’t like coming by anymore. Neither did Bonnie. Matt had his own mansion to roam around in. Elena was about to take out her phone when something stirred. She turned. The window was open, curtains billowing. Strange, was that always –? A sigh. Not a human sigh, a sigh of speed, of wind against body. Elena’s shoulders tensed. Anyone could come in. No humans owned this house anymore. Travellers? She couldn’t hear chanting.
“Caroline?” she called tentatively.
Suddenly, the fireplace roared. Elena turned again to face it. Something wasn’t right. A hard tap against her shoulder. A soft breeze tickled the nape of her neck. Someone was definitely in the house. Just as the thought had come into her head, veined eyes and a mouthful of fangs jumped out from the darkness causing Elena to squeal then bare her own fangs. Then … was that … it was laughter.
“Too easy. You’re way too easy to scare.”
Elena closed her eyes in embarrassment and smiled at recognizing the baritone voice.
“That wasn’t funny, Stefan.” She swung her arm out in a playful punch and felt her fist connect with a body she couldn’t see. After a minute Stefan emerged from the shadows, a wry grin on his face.
“Ah, it was a little funny,” he said. “I thought I taught you better defence skills than that.”
Elena giggled. Like always when she was around Stefan, she felt playful, spirited like could play a game of tag around the manor. She knew he’d be up for it if he made the suggestion, they’d always done stuff like this when they were together, but that would be avoiding the subject said a small voice in her head.
“So what’s going on?” said Stefan, walking lazily to the bar that was right by the fireplace.
He wasn’t in his usual button-down and jeans, Elena noticed, but dressed in a ribbed tank top and sweats. It had been a while since she’d seen him in his house-clothes and she felt herself blush as she eyed the tautness of his arms. It wasn’t too long ago that she spread her fingers over his chest and felt that tautness beneath her palm; he’d had no memory then and had grinned roguishly as her hand felt his rigidness, his eyes peering into hers. She’d denied it but even at that moment she could feel the quiet, slow-burning attraction that had drawn them together when they first started dating, she’d felt it with such intense certainty when they’d almost kissed that day too, the way they drew each other together, like magnets or …
She cleared her throat. “I just um…”
Stefan watched her intently, putting a glass of scotch to his lips. His stare made her cheeks redden even more; it was a combination of warmth and intensity and she felt both safe and nervous. It was making her dizzy.
“Can I have one of those?” she said, pointing to the glass.
He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, sure.”
Elena walked over to one of the couches and sat down as Stefan started to fix her a drink. He walked out from behind the bar and handed it to her. “You know Damon isn’t here, right? He and Alaric are off somewhere. Ex-dead, bro-bonding session or something.”
At the mention of his name, Elena’s hand slipped and the glass fell, it almost shattered on the carpet but Stefan caught it just in time.
Stefan sat down next to her on the couch. “It’s OK.”
The truth was, she did know Damon wasn’t around. She’d known for two days. As she thought about it, the last words he’d said to her reverberated in her head: “I know you love me, Elena, but not like how you love Stefan.” He’d only said it, Elena knew, because he saw the way she hugged Stefan after her fight with Bonnie; how he brushed her hair from her face, how she rested her head on his chest, tightened her arms around him, like she would come apart at her very centre if she let go. Elena had tried to tell Damon he was being crazy, stupid even, that it was friendship he saw between her and Stefan, not love, that ended a while ago but all she could do was gape at him, open-mouthed, her shoulders hunched, urging her to say something. When she couldn’t say a word, Damon had kissed her on her forehead and then left. And the words he’d said had tortured her for two nights. But not like how you love Stefan … Those words coiled in her gut and choked her throat, filling her with a mixture of clarity and remorse so that she’d found herself waking up from memory-filled dreams with her eyes and pillow wet, her heart racing.
And she was supposed to communicate that now to Stefan. That was why she’d come.
“I know he’s gone. Have you … Did you … What did he say when you spoke to … we broke up, Stefan.”
“Oh.” He shifted a little in his seat. “He mentioned you two were taking time but I didn’t know that meant you two broke up.”
Even in such a short sentence Elena could hear the guilt in Stefan’s voice, the self-reproach at not knowing what was happening with his brother the moment it happened. He swallowed hard and she knew he was thinking about calling him or Alaric, thinking about driving up to wherever they were. And she felt that familiar rush of sadness at Stefan’s self-condemnation but admiration of his empathy.
“But you two will get back together,” said Stefan suddenly. “I mean this is kind of what you two do. Break up, get back together. It’s your thing.”
“It’s different this time, Stefan.”
“Oh come on, Elena, you always find a way to forgive him.”
“He didn’t do anything,” she said quietly. Her palms were getting sweaty. She didn’t know that could still happen as a vampire.
This was impossible. How could she tell him that even though she’d told herself she had, she’d never stopped loving him, that Damon, his brother, his brother who’d recently died and come back to life, had given her what she needed at the time but that it wasn’t enough for eternity, that even at their best, Damon had never claimed her heart like Stefan had, that excitement was no match for what Stefan gave her — nourishment. This was all too much. She should’ve waited longer to come here, she should’ve written notes, she should’ve prepared more. This wasn’t something you just blurt out. She stood up from the couch and start pacing, putting her hands to her head.
The way he said her name with such intimate knowledge inspired Elena with abrupt courage. “You know … when we broke up, I’d said that being a vampire changed me. That I wasn’t the same girl who died on the bridge that night, the same girl who … who chose you.”
“I remember,” said Stefan. There was no trace of resentment in his tone and Elena couldn’t help but smile to herself. This was why. This was why she was here.
“And I believed that for a long time,” she continued. “I believed that I was just this other person who wanted different things, a different . . . relationship. But. From the moment I met you, Stefan, you knew me. I couldn’t hide from you. I can’t hide from you. You know me. You know me better than anyone, better than myself, which is… I mean, how is that even possible?”
She chanced a glance at Stefan. He was staring at her with complete focus, his green eyes still and unwavering. Elena flipped her hair back and ploughed on.
“I thought that becoming a vampire meant that nothing from my old life could make sense in my new one,” she said, getting a better footing on what she wanted to say. “I thought that I didn’t need what I used to need but no matter where I am in my life, I need you. I told you once that I never stopped loving you and I guess what I’m trying to say is that, that never went away.” She took a deep breath. “Stefan, I love you.”
With her last words, Elena turned on her heel to look Stefan squarely in the eye. He was as still as ever, his jaw clenched in place. The silence between them was tense and loud; a low hum invaded the entire room. Elena was suddenly reminded of the first time she’d told him she’d loved him, he was quiet then too and looked completely devastated only to walk up to her, determined and resolute, and kiss her. Hard. With passion. With complete devotion. The memory almost made her sigh longingly. But Stefan made no move to get up and he sat in place, his lips closed in a straight line. He got silent when he processed, Elena knew this; Stefan always chose his words his carefully, his movements were meticulous, something she always appreciated but something that was currently driving her crazy.
After what seemed like hours, he drained the rest of his scotch and got up to go back to the bar.
“I think you should go,” he said finally, his voice was very quiet but his tone almost sinister.
Elena blinked. She didn’t know what response she was expecting but this definitely wasn’t it. “What? Stefan—”
“Elena.” He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together as if he was trying to contain his anger. He poured another scotch. “What exactly do you expect me to do with this? You broke up with my brother two days ago.”
“You just what? Thought I should know?” He shook his head. “You’ve got to stop doing this. Going back and forth between us, it’s cruel.”
“I don’t mean to do it! This isn’t fun for me, Stefan. I don’t enjoy hurting either of you. I never did. But …” She shook her head. “I can’t help what I feel.”
“No, but you can help what you say!”
“So you’re mad that I told you?”
She hadn’t banked on this. Shock, yes. Indignation, sure. But anger?
“Yes, I’m mad. I’ve watched you with Damon for two years. Watched you be with him, watched you kiss him. I’ve lived in the house where you two have slept together.” He sighed. “And I finally get my head wrapped around it and you do, this?”
“Because when you love someone you can’t keep it to yourself. You couldn’t keep it from me when we first got together.”
“Things weren’t as messy then.”
“You were a vampire and I was a human. It was pretty damn messy, Stefan.”
He looked at her appraisingly for moment. “You know what, you’re right. I should’ve stayed away and I knew I should’ve stayed away and —”
“And you couldn’t.” Elena took a step a closer to the bar, her eyes searching his expression. He wasn’t looking at her. “Stefan—”
“Damon, Elena. What about Damon? Was you choosing him a lie?”
“I needed to be with Damon, Stefan,” said Elena. “Even when I didn’t want to admit it, he appealed to me. And when I turned …even after the sirebond…that appeal was strong. And I had to know. I had to know what it felt like. I had to know what kind of person I’d be with him.”
“And it was exciting. And it was frustrating. And… and no matter what, he could never reach me like you could. Like you can,” she added in a whisper.
Elena could see that Stefan’s eyes were shining now and she took another step closer. And another. She realized he wasn’t angry with her, he was angry that he could feel it, their pull, their draw to each other, it was undeniable, it always had been; when they were together, it was during fights like these that really brought out the ties they had in one another. She wanted to touch and kiss him all over, feel the sensation of coming home, feel the safety of his hands, the recklessness of his lips, the mixture of refuge and passion. She reached out to touch his face, her fingertips brushed his cheek and she heard him breathe the smallest sigh, his eyes were almost closed …
“No, Elena, leave.” He grabbed her wrist and yanked her arm down. His eyes screwed shut. “You shouldn’t be here. You need to go.”
Elena remained where she was, pulling her lip slightly to the side.
His yell was loud enough to fill the entire living room and it made her flinch. Tears sprung to her eyes, hot and fast, and she left, her vamp-speed full on, Stefan a fuzzy figure in her periphery. She reached her car in the driveway and sat in the driver’s seat for a few long moments, allowing herself to give sound to her cries. She hadn’t expected this, she hadn’t expected to leave feeling cut in half, without a centre, hollow and rejected. She couldn’t stay here anymore and she turned the key in the ignition and sped off, down the street, the grey sky above.
I can hear her cry inside her car; the sound rips through me in a way that makes me hate myself. Even now, I can’t bear the thought of her in pain. It does something to me; makes me want to go to her, hold her, and knowing that it was me who caused her this grief just makes me want to bash my head against a wall.
After all this time she still does this to me.
I think about pouring another drink but the pitcher of scotch reminds me of Damon. They broke up two days ago. I wonder if he knew then that Elena would come here and say what she said to me. Probably. When she broke up with me for him, I knew it before he did. I run my fingers through my hair and scowl at the empty room. Why does she keep doing this to us and why the hell do we allow her to keep on doing it to us?
The frustration rolls beneath my skin with every movement I make and I have the sudden urge to tear apart the living room, much like I did when Caroline told me that Damon and Elena had slept together a mere day after we’d broken up. This entire house is etched with memories like that one, memories of Elena, of my love for her. I haven’t thought about those ghosts in a long time, but now everywhere I look I see us at our best, at our worst. The time she left me because of Katherine, the time she let me drink from her palm, the time we held each other by the fire… I feel haunted and mocked by these moments and I know I need to write, to get it all out, sort through what I’m feeling. But my journal is my bedroom and I can’t go up there. All I’ll see are the times we made love, the times we spent lying in bed and that will rip me to shreds, ruin me completely.
Of course I’m already ruined. She ruined me from the moment I met her. I meet women I like enough. I think I could even love again. But I could never give myself over the way I did with Elena; it was never something I counted on with her either, I just couldn’t help it; she simply unravelled me. There’s a certain powerlessness I feel only with her; the night she guided my face to hers, her fingers soft and gentle, outlining the veins beneath my eyes, proved that. I’m facing the hallway that happened in and I can see the moment clearly, see my head on her shoulder, her lips pressed to my ear, whispering to me, urging me not to hide from her.
The frustration I managed to only just suppress transforms into rage and it makes me pace. That type of devotion wasn’t enough for her two years ago there’s absolutely no reason why it would be enough for her now. She’s only bored. Needs to keep herself entertained. Needs to … but even now I can’t finish the sentence, can’t bring myself to think of anything terrible about her, anything terrible to say about her; no matter what I just can’t villainize her. The thought infuriates me even more and with one quick swipe of my hand I knock all of the glass off of the bar and onto the ground so that it breaks on the carpet. I throw the bar next, hearing it crash on the other side of the room.
I feel myself getting into a stride and know that if I don’t leave soon I will end up destroying the house in a feeble attempt to destroy the part of me that’s still bound to her. I need to get out of here. I walk into the foyer and then open the door, it’s grey and raining, not lightly either, it’s a heavy downpour, thick and blinding. I’m not at all properly dressed but I don’t care. I need to leave this place.
I run vamp-speed into the woods so I won’t get too soaked and the speed allows the air to fill my lungs and calm me down while the rain cools my angry-heated skin. I haven’t run in full vamp-speed in a while and the power is exhilarating, refreshing, I forgot it could be like this. I could go anywhere, climb anything. I want to see how far I can go. Maybe I can visit Caroline at Whitmore and tell her what happened; talking to her always helps. I grin as I think about her reaction; how her eyes would get comically wide, how her voice would shoot out in a yell. “She said what? Wait, what? Start again!” Her hands would gesticulate wildly, her head would shake from side-to-side so that her blonde hair would bounce frantically on her shoulders. But when I really think about it, I somehow don’t want to tell her about Elena. It seems almost … vaguely inappropriate, like it would irritate her or hurt her, even, which would only hurt me. I can’t pinpoint why I feel this way. And now I just want to know why all of the women in my life are so complicated.
By the time I realize that Caroline might not be the best person to talk to about this, I’m already on the Whitmore campus, not too far from the dormitories. Most people are in the buildings, sheltering themselves from the rain but a few people huddled under umbrellas walk swiftly by, a couple of girls stop for only a moment to raise their eyebrows at me in interest. I look down at myself and see that my top is soaked through now and shows everything rippling underneath and I know I look like one of those dicks who do this on purpose.
I don’t turn around and I don’t know why. I could easily make my way back home. Why I feel my feet take me to where the dorms are, I don’t know. Except I do know. Of course I know. Did I ever even want to see Caroline or did I just tell myself that to get here so I could be near Elena? Katherine told me once that I find excuses to stay in Mystic Falls, to be anywhere she is.
There’s a bench outside of their dorm and I think about sitting on it but then choose to stand. I look up to their window and see that while the lights aren’t on, a lamp is, which means someone is in. I rub my hand over my face, wiping the rain from my eyes. This is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous. The thought of whether or not Damon ever skulked outside the dorms while he and Elena were broken up enters my mind and then images of them making up in her room appear unbidden in my head; on the bed, against the wall, on her desk. It’s not like the idea hadn’t occurred to me before but then, they were met with stabs or irritation’ now, I have the bizarre urge to dig into my skull and rip the images out of my head. I can’t be here. I can’t be home. I can’t —
And her voice is like a punch in the chest and I have no choice but to turn around; she’s pulling me to her just by speaking. Sparks, electricity, not really our thing. We have connection, magnetism, unspoken links to each other that bring us back to this raw place of … understanding and exposure and …
She’s about twelve feet away from me, her head is tilted to the side and her eyebrows are furrowed with anticipation; her eyes are pleading and searching, sad and hopeful. Her lips part like she’s about to say something but she just watches me, her entire face taut with emotion.
I shake my head and look briefly to the sky. “I just …” I close my eyes and exhale heavily. “I just can’t not love you.”
There’s a beat and then a whisper and she’s suddenly right in front of me, her lips on mine, kissing me urgently, almost desperately. I press her closer to me, crush her against me, my hands on either side of her face, the rain is hot on her skin, burning my lips, my tongue. She encloses her fingers around my wrists and squeezes hard, forbidding me to let her go. I can’t help but show her the extent of what I’m feeling, I can’t help but pour in my anger, my grief, my desire and fear and I can feel her doing the same, I can feel her lips, her body beckoning me to give myself over to her completely, I can feel her unfolding into me. I dig my fingers into her hair, curling the wet strands around my thumbs, and her hands slide up to my neck, her nails kneading my skin, they slip down to my shoulders, explore my chest. She’s wrecking me, wrecking me in the greatest way; I feel at home, I feel at sea, my heart tells me that this where I’m supposed to be, that this is where she’s supposed to be, that neither one of us should’ve left, that we can’t break this kiss, we can’t break this bond, that we’ll be lost if we do, nothing will make sense. My head … my head is calling me an idiot, after everything, after Damon, one kiss and it’s all forgotten? Can I really just do that? Could I really look at myself in the mirror everyday knowing that she undid me with one kiss?
And even though I hate myself, even though it feels like ripping out an artery, I rip away from her and take a step back. I’m panting, she’s panting, both of our lips are swollen, both of our faces are flushed, our hands are shaking. There’s pure yearning in her eyes and I know there is in mine too, I can feel her getting ready to come back into my arms but I shake my head and take another step back, she can’t kiss me again. I can’t handle it.
“No, I mean it. One kiss isn’t going to make everything OK. I can’t be here.”
“But you want to be here,” she says defiantly.
“I do,” I admit. No point lying. “I can’t say I don’t want you, Elena. I do. I always have. I just… I don’t trust you. And I don’t trust myself with you. I can’t be around you.”
There’s nothing else to say really so I start to walk away. Another whisper and she’s in front of me again. “I know you need to leave,” she says, her voice thick with tears. “But I can’t give up on you, Stefan. It’s you and me, remember? Always.”
She kisses me softly on the lips, it’s enough to ignite the skin and just as suddenly as she appeared, she’s gone.
