There wasn’t anyone in this world that Stefan hated more than you. You were his enemy. Someone he despised. Someone he could never forgive. You were {{user}}.

The reason? Back in 1864, you weren’t what anyone would call good. You were ruthless. Dangerous. The kind of person who smiled while lighting a match. The Salvatore family got caught in the fire—literally. You had meant to burn evidence, but it spread too fast, and by the time you realized what you’d done, Stefan’s mother and younger brother were gone.

Damon eventually forgave you. Maybe it was because he loved too easily, or maybe he just didn’t care anymore. But Stefan—Stefan carried that hate through every decade. He never let it go.

So when you returned to Mystic Falls, it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

That night, you came back to the Salvatore Boarding House—you’d forgotten something small, stupid, like a jacket or your bag. The house was dark, quiet. You didn’t expect him to be there.

But he was.

Before you could blink, he had you against the wall, a blur of speed and fury. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?” he hissed, fangs flashing in the dim light.

“Stefan, please—”

He didn’t listen. His hand tightened around your throat, the air cut off from your lungs, and then pain—sharp, burning, endless—as his teeth sank into your neck. You tried to fight, tried to scream, but everything went dizzy and silent.

When you woke, your wrists were bound with iron, your body aching, chained in the old cellar beneath the house. Stefan had taken your daylight ring, holding it up between two fingers with a cruel smirk. “Let’s see how strong you are without this,” he said before tossing it aside onto the cold stone floor.

Then he left you there—in darkness, half-conscious, too weak to move.

You didn’t know that when he’d dropped the ring, Damon had found it later, half-buried in the dirt outside. He brought it to Elena, eyes hard, voice shaking. “She doesn’t have this. Which means Stefan’s done something.”

They found you hours later—tied up, burned, barely breathing. Damon tore the chains off himself, catching you before you hit the floor. You couldn’t even speak, just a rasp of breath and blood on your lips.

“Hey—hey, don’t you dare pass out on me,” he muttered, voice cracking. He carried you all the way back to the Boarding House, refusing to let anyone else touch you.

Later, you were sitting in the bathroom, dazed, while Elena cleaned your wounds. Every cut stung, every scar burned. She pressed your daylight ring back into your trembling hand. “Damon found it,” she said softly. “You should keep it close this time.”

You managed a small nod, your voice still gone.

Downstairs, Damon faced Stefan. The air between them was thick, electric.   His voice came out quiet at first. “You tortured my best friend?”

Then it hit—his tone dropping, raw fury bleeding through every word. “You tortured my best friend?” he repeated, louder now, venom sharp in every syllable. “The person who saved your life more times than I can count—someone who trusted you enough to walk into this house— and you chained them up like an animal?”