Damon & Elena Ficlet Roundup
Title: Time is All They Have
Author: badboy_fangirl
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Damon/Elena
Warnings: Everything through 2x18.
Word count: ~500
Summary: Elena becomes a vampire.
Author’s Notes: From silver_venus42's prompt, kiss on a bridge.
After she survives the Sacrifice, Elena finds herself on Wickery Bridge. She hasn't been here since the accident, but considering that she's dead now, it's fitting to finally come back.
It's safer to say she's undead, and Stefan can't seem to look her fully in the face, and she's been carefully drinking blood from blood bags that Damon gives her, but she's knows everything's changed now.
She stands on the bridge, wondering if she should have died here, and if she had, wouldn't everything be different? Everyone she loves would still be alive, and she would never have been the one to break Damon and Stefan's relationship irrevocably.
She jumps when Damon appears at her side. "Are you following me?" she asks.
"You're the one who wanted me to make sure you didn't go crazy and kill any humans. Just doing my job." He smirks at her, but even he is more subdued than usual. It's as if the whole world has been muted when every sense she has is magnified by ten thousand.
"This is the place my parents died," she says softly.
"I know," he replies and his hand settles over hers on the wooden railing.
"For the rest of my existence, I'll wonder, won't I?" She looks into his eyes, sees the truth there.
"If you should have just died? Yes, you'll wonder. But I'll always tell you. No, you should have lived." His fingers tighten over hers. "I'll always be glad you chose to take my blood."
"Damon--" She's not sure what she wants to say, and since he presses a finger to her lips, it doesn't matter. Whatever words are trapped in her heart will stay there, at least for now.
He traces the curve of her bottom lip with his thumb, and his eyes ask permission. It's such an unlikely reaction from Damon, but Elena finds that she can't give a nod of acceptance. She wants to, but it's all mixed up in her need for blood. She may always wonder that, too--had she wanted to live, or had she just wanted Damon, and the only way to have him was to ask for the one thing she couldn't get from Stefan.
He leans forward, slowly, and when she doesn't move away, she assumes he knows she wants him to. His lips touch hers so softly that she trembles, the hand under his turning to grip him for purchase in the ever-shifting world.
She could just fly away, but Damon will keep her anchored. Isn't that ironic?
In the back of her mind, she always thought if they ever kissed, Stefan would be dead, she would be angry--probably hitting him, and Damon's response would be to pin her down and find a new way to channel the aggression.
Now, he just tenderly rubs his lips over hers like he has all the time in the world.
Because he does.
Title: Kiss with a Fist
Author: badboy_fangirl
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Damon/Elena
Warnings: Everything through 2x18.
Word count: ~500
Summary: Damon starts to understand Elena's motives.
Author’s Notes: From littledivinity's prompt a kiss in Damon's bedroom, but Damon's realization came from crowandfog.
The next time she comes in his room, it's not to apologize. She's angry about something--in all honesty, Damon can't tell anymore what pisses her off, because it feels like he just breathes wrong and she's in his face about it--and she tries to hit him again.
He's warned her about this, and, in his more controlled moments, allowed it happen because he knows she needs the outlet.
It's stressful being the doppelganger. He gets it, he really does.
But today has been a real bitch of a day, and he's had a few drinks, and good lord, she's so beautiful in her wrath, it's almost like a dream when he blocks her swinging arm and hauls her against his body to restrain the violence.
Her chest heaves against his, and he can feel her entire body pressed to his.
(She can feel his too, and her eyes widen in shock when she feels how turned on he is.)
She squirms against him, probably to get away, but that just amps up the tension, because the friction is mind-blowingly pleasurable. Damon bites back a groan as she whimpers, struggling against his hold.
Then her eyes fall to his lips, and he is lost to time, place, or open door. He has no idea where in the house Stefan is, but it doesn't matter, because when he puts his mouth on hers, she stops thrashing in his arms, melting against him like this was the very thing she wanted.
He remembers kissing Katherine on the Gilbert's front porch--how he'd been so soft, so gentle, so careful, making sure she didn't gasp and jerk away from him because he thought that's the kind of kiss Elena would respond to. But now, with open mouths, and dueling tongues, and clashing teeth, he realizes the one thing he never allowed himself to think about.
(How he can think at all when her arms manage to wrangle out of his grasp only to lock around his neck is beyond him.)
Elena's fevered response to him, on every level, is just the substitute for this. It's because they aren't doing this on a regular basis that they do the other dance--the one where she's so angry she wants to stake him.
What she really wants is to fuck him.
And strangely, that's what gives him the impetus to let her go. He pushes her away, and her hand covers her mouth, as though she can't quite believe what just happened. Her eyes snap to his, and he wishes he knew what to say, what could really soothe her in this instance, but there aren't any words for it. At least, not ones she could accept.
She turns and leaves his room almost as quickly as she had stormed into it, but she shuts the door behind her, and that's all the answer he needs.
Title: Nesting
Author: badboy_fangirl
Rating: PG
Pairings/Characters: Damon/Elena
Warnings: Everything through 2x18.
Word count: ~700
Summary: Elena has some redecorating ideas for the Boarding House.
Author’s Notes: From lovexandxfate's prompt of kissing while painting.
He comes home one day to find her in the bedroom she's claimed as her own (she doesn't share with Stefan because she needs her own space, though God knows she usually sleeps in Stefan's room, so that makes no sense to Damon whatsoever) and all the furniture has been shoved to the center of the room. She's kneeling on the floor, taping off the baseboards, and it's obvious she's planning on repainting the room.
So he doesn't ask, What are you doing? since he can tell. Instead he asks, "What color?"
She jerks around, screaming a little in surprise. She smiles when she sees it's him and runs over to grab his arm and pull him inside the room. "Yellow," she says, gesturing at the dark walls.
"That'll take a few coats," he murmurs, looking around.
"I know, I bought four gallons," she says, pointing to the corner where the buckets of paint sit. She's got two rollers and two trays, but no Stefan to be seen.
"You need any help?" he says before he can stop himself.
(What? Her smile would make a lesser man do anything. He's just helping with some painting.)
They agree to change into old clothes that they can get paint all over if need be, and they reconvene about ten minutes later. Damon helps her pour the paint carefully, though they've spread plastic out on the floor to protect the hard wood as well.
It's hours later and Elena has paint in her hair and across her forehead, and Damon's basically had the best time ever because there hasn't been any mention of death, or sacrifices, or probable tragic outcomes. Elena's talked his ear off about wallpaper and why she went with paint, and how she wants to redecorate various rooms in the house and he thinks of telling her that her ownership is really just in name only, and she shouldn't have such lofty goals.
But as they finish the room, she turns to him and the light in her eyes is almost blinding. He looks at her and knows, one way or another, this house was destined to be hers regardless of the reasons they gave it her. She will live here, with his brother, or with him, until she doesn't want to be there anymore. She can change every room if she wants to, he really wouldn't care what she did with the place.
He freezes when she moves close to him and leans up to kiss his cheek. "Thanks for helping me," she says cheerfully. She looks around the room like yellow paint is the end-all, be-all of decorating helps, and Damon can't stop himself when his hand reaches up, curves around the back of her neck, and pulls her face to his. He kisses her as she protests with a, "Damon, wha--" but then her mouth stops moving and he continues to kiss her until it starts responding.
She sighs, a sweet little sound that drifts down to his nerve endings and he flicks his tongue over her bottom lip, pulling away before it can go any further.
(Like them ending up on the bed in the middle of the floor. Wouldn't want to get paint all over the bedspread.)
"Um, you can't do that," she says as she turns away. Her hand is over her mouth and he all but expects her to wipe her lips like she can erase the moment.
She just presses her fingers over them, like she's holding in a secret. "Sorry," he says, though, of course, he doesn't sound sorry.
"Damon!" she cries insistently, looking back at him.
"I lost my head," he says, shrugging. He turns away and picks up the paint tray to pour what's left back into one of the buckets. When he stands up, she's staring at him accusingly. "Don't worry, I won't tell Stefan you kissed me back."
He saunters from the room, and the silence the follows him makes him smile.
Title: Crashing
Author: badboy_fangirl
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Damon/Elena
Warnings: Everything through 2x18.
Word count: ~900
Summary: As usual, Damon gets more than he bargains for with Elena
Author’s Notes: From linsell_farm's prompt, kissing on the Boarding House grounds. Sequel to Nesting.
"Come on, you bum. Don't just hide in here. Come outside. There's sunshine. You need it. Vitamin D."
Elena throws a pillow at him, surprising Damon with her accuracy.
"Quit pouting. Stefan and Bonnie had to go on the mission without you. You are not a supernatural being. You need to be kept safe. Deal with it."
She holds up a middle finger, and Damon chuckles, pleasantly taken aback by her vulgarity.
He walks into her room, over to the bed she'd moved to the center to keep safe from the wall painting they'd done a few days earlier. She now lies burrowed into the blankets like a tick on a hound dog. He finds her ankles in the mass of bed clothes and yanks her out of the bed. She yelps and when she comes flying into his arms, she grunts as she lands against his chest.
He spins around and sets her on her feet. "We're going outside." (He just barely restrains himself from slapping her ass.)
Her pout is comical, and yet it tugs at his heart too. "If I'm in so much danger, I should just stay here, safe and sound," she says and she tries to go around him and get back on the bed.
"Elena," he says, and he puts enough warning in his voice that when her eyes come up to his, he gives her a look that makes her eyes snap fire and her mouth tighten into a scowl.
"Fine," she bites off, turning on her heel to leave the room.
She's wearing short shorts and a tank top, and it's April in Virginia. It's not the best day to go outside in what can only be described as pajamas, but he figures pointing this out to her will not make the situation better. So he just follows her and says, "Good girl. The sun will make you happier. I read an article recently that said just ten minutes of sun every day will hel--"
"Damon, shut up."
He follows her out the door and onto the property, obeying her command. His smirk is just for himself.
They're out there for about four minutes before she starts shivering, because, well, she's dressed for the beach (or for someone to strip her naked, but he tries not to think about that, really, he does), and she doesn't have any shoes on.
He's not very good at this babysitting stuff. "Maybe we should go back in the house," he comments.
She ignores him, and just keeps walking, further away from the house, towards the trees. Suddenly Damon remembers Vicki Donovan disappearing into the woods, and he speeds up, like he might lose her.
"Elena, you're practically naked," he says, grabbing at her arm.
"This was your idea," she spits, shaking him off.
He grabs her then, from behind, wrapping his arms around her. She stops moving because she has to--he's far stronger than she is, but she doesn't even fight him, which is sort of amazing to Damon.
He presses his cheek to hers and says softly, "I'm trying to cheer you up, not send you into hypothermic shock."
She's trembling, and he's sure it's because she's cold, not any other reason, but he can't help how much he likes her in his arms, or the fact that she doesn't fight him. She stands there in acquiescence and then she tips her head back against his shoulder. He has to bite his bottom lip to hold in a sound that would expose everything he's feeling in the moment, not to mention that sweet part of her throat is right there.
(And he's a vampire.)
"I'm sorry," she says, and he can tell she means it. For once she's mad at Stefan, not him, and it's actually a little miracle. Her hands come up and grasp at his arms, and then she says, "You're hugging me."
"So?" He's put off by the comment, it feels a little out of left field.
"So, you don't hug people. Whenever I've hugged you, you've never hugged me back."
He thinks about it. "Whenever you've hugged me, I've been..."
"Emotionally devastated," she fills in when he pauses too long.
"I was going to say fucked up. I prefer fucked up, actually."
"Of course you do," she murmurs. She turns in his arms and looks up at him, and Damon thinks about that kiss he stole in her bedroom a few days before. The kiss she returned, though she'd probably never admit it. She stares into his eyes for too long without saying anything, and he starts to itch for all the things he can't have that he wants so badly from her.
She shudders and he says, "Let's go back to the house."
When she kisses him, it's not simple amazement that courses through him, but complete bewilderment. He's spent 145 years knowing more than most of the people in the room with him, but Elena will always be a mystery to him.
He loses count of how many kisses it is, but it goes on until he's painfully hard, and she's still hardly wearing any clothes, and he feels like he might just pull her down onto the cold hard ground and have his way with her. He ends it because that's not how it's going to go, if it's going to go anywhere.
"I thought you said I couldn't do that," he says, his voice low.
A smile flickers on her face before shame and guilt intercede.
"Just so you know," he says, leading her back to the house. "You can do it any time you want."
Her silence is neither an acceptance nor a denial, and for now, that's enough.
Author: badboy_fangirl
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Damon/Elena
Warnings: Everything through 2x18.
Word count: ~500
Summary: Elena becomes a vampire.
Author’s Notes: From silver_venus42's prompt, kiss on a bridge.
After she survives the Sacrifice, Elena finds herself on Wickery Bridge. She hasn't been here since the accident, but considering that she's dead now, it's fitting to finally come back.
It's safer to say she's undead, and Stefan can't seem to look her fully in the face, and she's been carefully drinking blood from blood bags that Damon gives her, but she's knows everything's changed now.
She stands on the bridge, wondering if she should have died here, and if she had, wouldn't everything be different? Everyone she loves would still be alive, and she would never have been the one to break Damon and Stefan's relationship irrevocably.
She jumps when Damon appears at her side. "Are you following me?" she asks.
"You're the one who wanted me to make sure you didn't go crazy and kill any humans. Just doing my job." He smirks at her, but even he is more subdued than usual. It's as if the whole world has been muted when every sense she has is magnified by ten thousand.
"This is the place my parents died," she says softly.
"I know," he replies and his hand settles over hers on the wooden railing.
"For the rest of my existence, I'll wonder, won't I?" She looks into his eyes, sees the truth there.
"If you should have just died? Yes, you'll wonder. But I'll always tell you. No, you should have lived." His fingers tighten over hers. "I'll always be glad you chose to take my blood."
"Damon--" She's not sure what she wants to say, and since he presses a finger to her lips, it doesn't matter. Whatever words are trapped in her heart will stay there, at least for now.
He traces the curve of her bottom lip with his thumb, and his eyes ask permission. It's such an unlikely reaction from Damon, but Elena finds that she can't give a nod of acceptance. She wants to, but it's all mixed up in her need for blood. She may always wonder that, too--had she wanted to live, or had she just wanted Damon, and the only way to have him was to ask for the one thing she couldn't get from Stefan.
He leans forward, slowly, and when she doesn't move away, she assumes he knows she wants him to. His lips touch hers so softly that she trembles, the hand under his turning to grip him for purchase in the ever-shifting world.
She could just fly away, but Damon will keep her anchored. Isn't that ironic?
In the back of her mind, she always thought if they ever kissed, Stefan would be dead, she would be angry--probably hitting him, and Damon's response would be to pin her down and find a new way to channel the aggression.
Now, he just tenderly rubs his lips over hers like he has all the time in the world.
Because he does.
Title: Kiss with a Fist
Author: badboy_fangirl
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Damon/Elena
Warnings: Everything through 2x18.
Word count: ~500
Summary: Damon starts to understand Elena's motives.
Author’s Notes: From littledivinity's prompt a kiss in Damon's bedroom, but Damon's realization came from crowandfog.
The next time she comes in his room, it's not to apologize. She's angry about something--in all honesty, Damon can't tell anymore what pisses her off, because it feels like he just breathes wrong and she's in his face about it--and she tries to hit him again.
He's warned her about this, and, in his more controlled moments, allowed it happen because he knows she needs the outlet.
It's stressful being the doppelganger. He gets it, he really does.
But today has been a real bitch of a day, and he's had a few drinks, and good lord, she's so beautiful in her wrath, it's almost like a dream when he blocks her swinging arm and hauls her against his body to restrain the violence.
Her chest heaves against his, and he can feel her entire body pressed to his.
(She can feel his too, and her eyes widen in shock when she feels how turned on he is.)
She squirms against him, probably to get away, but that just amps up the tension, because the friction is mind-blowingly pleasurable. Damon bites back a groan as she whimpers, struggling against his hold.
Then her eyes fall to his lips, and he is lost to time, place, or open door. He has no idea where in the house Stefan is, but it doesn't matter, because when he puts his mouth on hers, she stops thrashing in his arms, melting against him like this was the very thing she wanted.
He remembers kissing Katherine on the Gilbert's front porch--how he'd been so soft, so gentle, so careful, making sure she didn't gasp and jerk away from him because he thought that's the kind of kiss Elena would respond to. But now, with open mouths, and dueling tongues, and clashing teeth, he realizes the one thing he never allowed himself to think about.
(How he can think at all when her arms manage to wrangle out of his grasp only to lock around his neck is beyond him.)
Elena's fevered response to him, on every level, is just the substitute for this. It's because they aren't doing this on a regular basis that they do the other dance--the one where she's so angry she wants to stake him.
What she really wants is to fuck him.
And strangely, that's what gives him the impetus to let her go. He pushes her away, and her hand covers her mouth, as though she can't quite believe what just happened. Her eyes snap to his, and he wishes he knew what to say, what could really soothe her in this instance, but there aren't any words for it. At least, not ones she could accept.
She turns and leaves his room almost as quickly as she had stormed into it, but she shuts the door behind her, and that's all the answer he needs.
Title: Nesting
Author: badboy_fangirl
Rating: PG
Pairings/Characters: Damon/Elena
Warnings: Everything through 2x18.
Word count: ~700
Summary: Elena has some redecorating ideas for the Boarding House.
Author’s Notes: From lovexandxfate's prompt of kissing while painting.
He comes home one day to find her in the bedroom she's claimed as her own (she doesn't share with Stefan because she needs her own space, though God knows she usually sleeps in Stefan's room, so that makes no sense to Damon whatsoever) and all the furniture has been shoved to the center of the room. She's kneeling on the floor, taping off the baseboards, and it's obvious she's planning on repainting the room.
So he doesn't ask, What are you doing? since he can tell. Instead he asks, "What color?"
She jerks around, screaming a little in surprise. She smiles when she sees it's him and runs over to grab his arm and pull him inside the room. "Yellow," she says, gesturing at the dark walls.
"That'll take a few coats," he murmurs, looking around.
"I know, I bought four gallons," she says, pointing to the corner where the buckets of paint sit. She's got two rollers and two trays, but no Stefan to be seen.
"You need any help?" he says before he can stop himself.
(What? Her smile would make a lesser man do anything. He's just helping with some painting.)
They agree to change into old clothes that they can get paint all over if need be, and they reconvene about ten minutes later. Damon helps her pour the paint carefully, though they've spread plastic out on the floor to protect the hard wood as well.
It's hours later and Elena has paint in her hair and across her forehead, and Damon's basically had the best time ever because there hasn't been any mention of death, or sacrifices, or probable tragic outcomes. Elena's talked his ear off about wallpaper and why she went with paint, and how she wants to redecorate various rooms in the house and he thinks of telling her that her ownership is really just in name only, and she shouldn't have such lofty goals.
But as they finish the room, she turns to him and the light in her eyes is almost blinding. He looks at her and knows, one way or another, this house was destined to be hers regardless of the reasons they gave it her. She will live here, with his brother, or with him, until she doesn't want to be there anymore. She can change every room if she wants to, he really wouldn't care what she did with the place.
He freezes when she moves close to him and leans up to kiss his cheek. "Thanks for helping me," she says cheerfully. She looks around the room like yellow paint is the end-all, be-all of decorating helps, and Damon can't stop himself when his hand reaches up, curves around the back of her neck, and pulls her face to his. He kisses her as she protests with a, "Damon, wha--" but then her mouth stops moving and he continues to kiss her until it starts responding.
She sighs, a sweet little sound that drifts down to his nerve endings and he flicks his tongue over her bottom lip, pulling away before it can go any further.
(Like them ending up on the bed in the middle of the floor. Wouldn't want to get paint all over the bedspread.)
"Um, you can't do that," she says as she turns away. Her hand is over her mouth and he all but expects her to wipe her lips like she can erase the moment.
She just presses her fingers over them, like she's holding in a secret. "Sorry," he says, though, of course, he doesn't sound sorry.
"Damon!" she cries insistently, looking back at him.
"I lost my head," he says, shrugging. He turns away and picks up the paint tray to pour what's left back into one of the buckets. When he stands up, she's staring at him accusingly. "Don't worry, I won't tell Stefan you kissed me back."
He saunters from the room, and the silence the follows him makes him smile.
Title: Crashing
Author: badboy_fangirl
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Damon/Elena
Warnings: Everything through 2x18.
Word count: ~900
Summary: As usual, Damon gets more than he bargains for with Elena
Author’s Notes: From linsell_farm's prompt, kissing on the Boarding House grounds. Sequel to Nesting.
"Come on, you bum. Don't just hide in here. Come outside. There's sunshine. You need it. Vitamin D."
Elena throws a pillow at him, surprising Damon with her accuracy.
"Quit pouting. Stefan and Bonnie had to go on the mission without you. You are not a supernatural being. You need to be kept safe. Deal with it."
She holds up a middle finger, and Damon chuckles, pleasantly taken aback by her vulgarity.
He walks into her room, over to the bed she'd moved to the center to keep safe from the wall painting they'd done a few days earlier. She now lies burrowed into the blankets like a tick on a hound dog. He finds her ankles in the mass of bed clothes and yanks her out of the bed. She yelps and when she comes flying into his arms, she grunts as she lands against his chest.
He spins around and sets her on her feet. "We're going outside." (He just barely restrains himself from slapping her ass.)
Her pout is comical, and yet it tugs at his heart too. "If I'm in so much danger, I should just stay here, safe and sound," she says and she tries to go around him and get back on the bed.
"Elena," he says, and he puts enough warning in his voice that when her eyes come up to his, he gives her a look that makes her eyes snap fire and her mouth tighten into a scowl.
"Fine," she bites off, turning on her heel to leave the room.
She's wearing short shorts and a tank top, and it's April in Virginia. It's not the best day to go outside in what can only be described as pajamas, but he figures pointing this out to her will not make the situation better. So he just follows her and says, "Good girl. The sun will make you happier. I read an article recently that said just ten minutes of sun every day will hel--"
"Damon, shut up."
He follows her out the door and onto the property, obeying her command. His smirk is just for himself.
They're out there for about four minutes before she starts shivering, because, well, she's dressed for the beach (or for someone to strip her naked, but he tries not to think about that, really, he does), and she doesn't have any shoes on.
He's not very good at this babysitting stuff. "Maybe we should go back in the house," he comments.
She ignores him, and just keeps walking, further away from the house, towards the trees. Suddenly Damon remembers Vicki Donovan disappearing into the woods, and he speeds up, like he might lose her.
"Elena, you're practically naked," he says, grabbing at her arm.
"This was your idea," she spits, shaking him off.
He grabs her then, from behind, wrapping his arms around her. She stops moving because she has to--he's far stronger than she is, but she doesn't even fight him, which is sort of amazing to Damon.
He presses his cheek to hers and says softly, "I'm trying to cheer you up, not send you into hypothermic shock."
She's trembling, and he's sure it's because she's cold, not any other reason, but he can't help how much he likes her in his arms, or the fact that she doesn't fight him. She stands there in acquiescence and then she tips her head back against his shoulder. He has to bite his bottom lip to hold in a sound that would expose everything he's feeling in the moment, not to mention that sweet part of her throat is right there.
(And he's a vampire.)
"I'm sorry," she says, and he can tell she means it. For once she's mad at Stefan, not him, and it's actually a little miracle. Her hands come up and grasp at his arms, and then she says, "You're hugging me."
"So?" He's put off by the comment, it feels a little out of left field.
"So, you don't hug people. Whenever I've hugged you, you've never hugged me back."
He thinks about it. "Whenever you've hugged me, I've been..."
"Emotionally devastated," she fills in when he pauses too long.
"I was going to say fucked up. I prefer fucked up, actually."
"Of course you do," she murmurs. She turns in his arms and looks up at him, and Damon thinks about that kiss he stole in her bedroom a few days before. The kiss she returned, though she'd probably never admit it. She stares into his eyes for too long without saying anything, and he starts to itch for all the things he can't have that he wants so badly from her.
She shudders and he says, "Let's go back to the house."
When she kisses him, it's not simple amazement that courses through him, but complete bewilderment. He's spent 145 years knowing more than most of the people in the room with him, but Elena will always be a mystery to him.
He loses count of how many kisses it is, but it goes on until he's painfully hard, and she's still hardly wearing any clothes, and he feels like he might just pull her down onto the cold hard ground and have his way with her. He ends it because that's not how it's going to go, if it's going to go anywhere.
"I thought you said I couldn't do that," he says, his voice low.
A smile flickers on her face before shame and guilt intercede.
"Just so you know," he says, leading her back to the house. "You can do it any time you want."
Her silence is neither an acceptance nor a denial, and for now, that's enough.