One-Shot - An Education
Title: An Education
Author: Andacus
Rating: PG (I guess)
Pairing: Damon/Elena
Notes: Just a little, bitty fic that wrote itself the other day.
She trails the hard lines of the shelves with her fingers, the book bindings all blurring together. There is something like salvation in here, written in countless words and phrases, buried among pages and pages of subtext.
But it is another kind of salvation that burns its way down her spine, opens a world of meaning. It is a revelation she never saw coming.
She’s learning to read between the lines.
She dreams he’s Atlas, trapped under the weight of the world and when she looks at him now it is all she can see; absolution bought with pain and sorrow and sacrifice.
For all of Stefan’s declarations and empathy and love, he never really understood what he was saying. He never bent down and picked up the world, never swallowed it whole, never took it inside him, and the thought makes her want to die a little, because it is the invisible brother who was always carrying that cross.
She’s learning to rethink her world.
She gasps, his hands on her wrists, too rough, too desperate and it is her own fault. They fall together, consumed, beaten, harsh and she’s glad she never found that salvation they were seeking. There is something like redemption here.
It’s odd, she thinks, as she trails a finger along the slope of his back. The devil loves deeper than the angel, loves truer, loves recklessly. There is no shame in that.
She’s learning to see in shades of gray.
He draws her legs up around him, slides down her body, kisses her hips and she wonders if his burden hurts, if it’s painful to heft up the weight of her expectations. Silently, with her eyes closed, his lips on her skin, she vows to shoulder her own share.
When he’s crawled back up, silently taken possession of all that she is, she smiles into his mouth, gives him back all that she takes. She owes him something that she cannot name.
She’s learning by falling.
She gasps and shudders and sighs and they endlessly circle each other, dragging bodies and minds into something that looks too much like an endless pit. But she wonders if love ever looked like anything else.
Damon is wrong in all the ways that count and right in all the ways that should and it splits her down the center. He is all of the things she never had words for, never understood.
She’s learning to speak in tongues.
When he looks at her just right, slips a gentle kiss to her cheek, touches the tips of his fingers to her pulse, she feels unfathomably young. It’s a feeling like loss, like having nothing because she’s not yet earned it.
She looks at her reflection, takes in her face, the face of countless girls. She is made of selfish prayers and endless sacrifice.
She is learning to live.
Author: Andacus
Rating: PG (I guess)
Pairing: Damon/Elena
Notes: Just a little, bitty fic that wrote itself the other day.
She trails the hard lines of the shelves with her fingers, the book bindings all blurring together. There is something like salvation in here, written in countless words and phrases, buried among pages and pages of subtext.
But it is another kind of salvation that burns its way down her spine, opens a world of meaning. It is a revelation she never saw coming.
She’s learning to read between the lines.
She dreams he’s Atlas, trapped under the weight of the world and when she looks at him now it is all she can see; absolution bought with pain and sorrow and sacrifice.
For all of Stefan’s declarations and empathy and love, he never really understood what he was saying. He never bent down and picked up the world, never swallowed it whole, never took it inside him, and the thought makes her want to die a little, because it is the invisible brother who was always carrying that cross.
She’s learning to rethink her world.
She gasps, his hands on her wrists, too rough, too desperate and it is her own fault. They fall together, consumed, beaten, harsh and she’s glad she never found that salvation they were seeking. There is something like redemption here.
It’s odd, she thinks, as she trails a finger along the slope of his back. The devil loves deeper than the angel, loves truer, loves recklessly. There is no shame in that.
She’s learning to see in shades of gray.
He draws her legs up around him, slides down her body, kisses her hips and she wonders if his burden hurts, if it’s painful to heft up the weight of her expectations. Silently, with her eyes closed, his lips on her skin, she vows to shoulder her own share.
When he’s crawled back up, silently taken possession of all that she is, she smiles into his mouth, gives him back all that she takes. She owes him something that she cannot name.
She’s learning by falling.
She gasps and shudders and sighs and they endlessly circle each other, dragging bodies and minds into something that looks too much like an endless pit. But she wonders if love ever looked like anything else.
Damon is wrong in all the ways that count and right in all the ways that should and it splits her down the center. He is all of the things she never had words for, never understood.
She’s learning to speak in tongues.
When he looks at her just right, slips a gentle kiss to her cheek, touches the tips of his fingers to her pulse, she feels unfathomably young. It’s a feeling like loss, like having nothing because she’s not yet earned it.
She looks at her reflection, takes in her face, the face of countless girls. She is made of selfish prayers and endless sacrifice.
She is learning to live.