TVD Oneshots

Flashbacks

"Stefan..." my voice drops off quietly as he stands with his back to me, tensed up like a wild animal ready to pounce. His hand drips blood, glass sticking out in places. Yet another glass shattered from a haunting flashback. I can't imagine how crushing the feeling is.

"You need to get out of here, (Y/N)."

"Let me help. Please? I think I know what-"

"You can't help me." He turns sharply, suddenly in front of me, brooding and as dangerous looking as ever. But he's never once scared me. I maintain eye contact with him, keeping my gaze soft, trusting. His breathing is heavy, but he seems to calm slightly. I drop my eyes, gently picking up his bloody hand in mine, examining it. "It will heal." He moves to pull away and I shoot my eyes back to his, tightening my hold.

"Not until the glass is pulled out, come on." Keeping my hands cradling his, I step back toward the bathroom and with a sigh he follows. I boost myself up on one side of the sink and encourage him to do the same.

We sit in comfortable silence and I pick the glass out, eventually grabbing tweezers to get the smaller pieces. I can feel him watching my face and I fight the blush that wants to rise to my cheeks. My feelings for him have never been a secret, but I stayed respectful, listening to him talk about Elena and their problems. Her love for his brother and how much it hurts him. But of course he does everything to pretend he's not bothered.

After being sure to pick all the glass out I turn the tap on, rinsing away the blood to reveal a smooth, scar-less hand. I hop down and grab a towel, handing it to him to dry.

"I'll give you a minute Stef. I'm going to go clean up the glass out there." He grabs my wrist, standing up and stopping me. I turn back to him, confused. "What?"

"You don't need to do that, (Y/N)." I shake my head, smiling softly.

"Its fine, Stefan. I don't mind." His hand moves from my wrist, pushing my hair back off my cheek. My heart has practically stopped, my breath with it, as he steps closer to me.

"I do." He leans his face down towards mine, closer than he's ever been to me before. I can't help the blood that rushes into my cheeks now. He rubs his thumb across the top of my cheek bone, where its the reddest. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

"Always, Stefan." Our breath mingles. I want so badly to close the distance. To fall into his arms and feel his mouth against mine. To feel all of him against me. It's everything. His smell makes me dizzy.

Shakily, I put one of my hands against his side, feeling the lean muscle. He steps even closer; I'm now pressed back against the edge of the counter. He's waiting for something, still looking at my eyes, occasionally glancing at my mouth. Both of our breathing is short, barely there. He leans closer, tilting his head farther down, to my neck where he noses against against my jaw and inhales. His other hand moves to my hip, pushing back harder, but not too rough. When he raises his head his eyes are red, the veins moving under them. I inhale sharply, but make no move to pull away from him.

"You've never been afraid of me." He says, trailing his fingers down my cheek, my throat, across my collarbone. My head tilts back involuntarily. "Why?" It takes me a moment to respond, gather my thoughts, although its still a shitty reason.

"You won't hurt me. I trust you." He tilts his head, fangs scraping my throat ever so gently. I wouldn't have noticed if my entire body wasn't burning with want. Noticing every sensation from him.

"I don't trust me." He seems like he's about to pull away but I hold tighter to him, my other hand gripping his shirt.

"Don't go." The words come out breathlessly and he doesn't move. Only looks at me, his eyes still red and veiny. I lift my hand, touching his face this time. Running my finger tips under his eye, down to his mouth, under his chin and back up, one finger moving over his lips which part under the touch. He looks down at me.