Careful who you invite in

I'm not going to kill you right now. That wouldn't serve my greater agenda. _____________________________ Independent&Selective Damon Salvatore _____ Season 1-3 based. ______ Penned & loved by Paige. previously bourbonlaced

[bourbonxblood]

"Do you or do you not love me? i need to know"

@malka-lisitsa It's been 84 years...

Damon stared at her for a long moment, all the usual sharp edges of him going quiet. Katherine Pierce asking for honesty was almost funny. Almost. His jaw tightened, like the answer had been sitting behind his teeth for too long and he hated that she could still pull it out of him so easily. “Yes.” The word came low, rough, stripped of performance. His eyes stayed on hers, blue and unflinching, even as something bitter twisted at the corner of his mouth. “I probably always will, which is wildly inconvenient considering you’ve made a hobby out of ruining me.” A humorless little smile tugged at his mouth. “But there it is. The big tragic confession. Try not to look too proud of yourself.”

[lycancursed]

her  great  aunt  had  lived  here,  once  upon  a  time.  it's  why,  when  the  dart  hit  between  mystic  falls  and  charlottesville,  she  was  certain  it  was  fate.  she,  herself,  had  never  visited,  but  she  had  heard  of  it.  now  that  her  aunt  had  moved  back  to  savanah  georgia,  she  thought  it  perfection.  when  she  arrived  ?  it  was  even  better.  certainly  more  beauty  than  where  she  had  come  from.  that  and  it  seemed  to  have  quite  the  vast  system  of  forest  for  her  to  roam  freely,  when  the  time  came.

surprisngly,  she  found  herself  settling  in  well.  there  was  no  shortness  of  niceties,  even  if  she  could  spot  the  feigned  ones  from  genuine.  snakes  bothered  her  none,  as  far  as  she  was  concerned,  eden  had  welcomed  in  the  wolf.

though,  most  of  the  welcome  wagon  seemed  to  be  older  women  with  casserroles  or  some  random  food  she  tossed  in  the  trash.  -  save  for  that  strawberry  pie.  a  man  —  one  as  handsome  and  young  as  the  one  as  him  was  certainly  new.

hazel  eyes  study  this  damon  salvatore.  then  her  gaze  drops  to  a  mid  out  stretch  hand  before  pulling  back,  realizing  she  is  without  her  gloves.  ❛❛  pleasure.  my  name  is  jacquline.❜❜

ah,  so  he  had  humor.  charm.  so  much  so  it  reminded  her  of  the  charm  she  has  come  across  in  other  countries,  rare  for  someone  around  here.  it  actually  earns  a  small  smile,  just  half.  one  side  of  her  lips  tugging  up  before  responding.  ❛❛  cute.  incidentally,  i  was  born  in  italy  and  raised  in  new  york,  so  i'  fear  that  I  do  not  know  much  about  your  'southern  hospitality'.  lucky  for  you,  i  find  it  too  warm  to  stand  out  here  and  do  not  care  for  bugs  in  my  home.  come,  you  may  come  in.❜❜  it's  the  only  offer  he  gets,  no  door  held  for  him  or  gesture  before  she  turns  her  back  on  him  and  walks  back  in,  just  to  stop  in  the  door  way  to  say,  ❛❛  an'  do  wipe  your  feet,  my  cleaner  doesn't  come  til  tuesday.❜❜

[bourbonxblood]

Damon’s gaze dropped briefly to the hand she almost offered him. Almost. His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes sharpened with quiet interest. People usually shook hands. Especially rich people with polished manners and names that sounded like they belonged engraved on silverware. Pulling back was a choice. “Jacqueline,” he repeated, slow enough to make it sound like he was deciding whether the name belonged to her or she had stolen it from someone wealthier. “Very my family owns something with columns.” The half-smile she gave him pulled one from him in return, crooked and pleased despite himself. Italy and New York. That explained a few things. The accent. The poise. The way she looked at him like she was already bored and waiting for him to become useful. “Born in Italy, raised in New York, and somehow you still ended up in Mystic Falls.” Damon clicked his tongue softly in disapproval, stepping closer to the porch. “That is either a tragedy, a punishment, or a very questionable life choice.” She said he could come in and for one brief second, Damon went still. Not enough for a human to catch. Not enough to look suspicious. Just a flicker behind the eyes, a quiet shift beneath all that practiced charm. “Well.” He stepped forward, glancing down at the threshold before looking back at her. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He paused when she told him to wipe his feet. Damon looked down at the mat. Then at her retreating back.

“Bossy,” he called after her, though he wiped his shoes anyway. Slowly. Deliberately. Twice, mostly because he had a feeling she would notice if he didn't. “I like that in a hostess. Really gives the visit that warm, welcoming don't touch anything or I'll have you killed."

Only then did he cross inside. No bugs, no hospitality, no handshake.” He stopped a few feet inside, hands slipping casually into his jacket pockets. “I have to say, Jacqueline, this is one of the more emotionally unavailable welcomes I’ve received.” The smile returned, lazy and charming. “And I’ve known a lot of emotionally unavailable women.”

[venusblooded]

There was something almost amusing about the certainty with which he searched for motives. Perhaps that was what immortality did to a person. It taught them that every gesture carried a hidden purpose, every kindness demanded repayment, and every invitation concealed a bargain waiting to be revealed.

"You assume there must be a reason, a motive, a purpose," she said softly, swirling the liquid in her glass before taking a slow sip. "A grand design. A hidden objective. Perhaps that is the tragedy of living for too long. One begins to believe every gift is a transaction and every act of kindness a negotiation." A faint smile touched her lips. "Then again, perhaps you are right. The world has given both of us more than enough reasons to become suspicious creatures. I always thought it was somewhat tragic how Vampires and Witches always seemed at odds, while to the hunters it makes no difference. The head of a Vampire or a Witch… I am sure their blades do not hesitate to cut through…"

Her gaze lingered on him thoughtfully before she continued. "As for why I invited you, the answer is both simple and complicated. The simple answer is that I was lonely. Summer nights are terribly slow when one is alone, and even witches grow tired of speaking only to their gods. The more complicated answer is that I was curious." She hummed softly. "Dangerously curious, perhaps. You are not quite what people claim you are, Damon, nor are you what you claim to be. Most monsters spend an awful lot of time convincing the world that they are monsters. The truly frightening ones rarely feel the need to announce it. And some just hide it, in the hopes they have to answer to none. No gods, no whispers of forgiveness, nothing but the emptiness of the void that is their heart…"

"And yet here we are, insisting that all of this is merely amusement. I do wonder who you are trying to convince." Her eyes met his once more before she laughed quietly. "As for where I intended to place you, I have not quite decided. That is the problem with interesting people. They refuse to fit neatly into the places we first imagine for them. I doubt you are one easily to be bound by words or chains for that matter…" She took another sip of her drink before tilting her head slightly.

"Though I will admit that the altar was never truly under consideration. The bedroom certainly sounds more comfortable." Her smile widened ever so slightly, something playful yet unsettling lingering beneath it. "Then again, comfort has never been the thing that tempted me most. I have always found myself far more intrigued by things that are dangerous, complicated, and perhaps just a little forbidden. But before any of that... perhaps we should do something to make you feel a little more appreciated."

She said it lightly as she reached for a letter opener. Without hesitation, she pricked the tip of her finger, a single droplet of blood forming before she stepped closer once more. Reaching up, she gently lifted his chin, though this time her attention drifted toward his lips.

"Consider this merely a display of my passionate, if somewhat crazed, mind," she murmured softly. "Perhaps a small taste will make you more receptive to my call..."

Though she doubted it.

It hardly mattered, however. She had never intended for him to understand that part. Some things were better left unexplained.

[bourbonxblood]

Damon’s eyes dropped to the bead of blood the instant it surfaced. For all his practiced indifference, there were some instincts even centuries of restraint could not make civilized. His smile remained, but it changed shape. Less amused now, less conversational. Sharper at the edges. The kind of smile that belonged to something standing very still because it had already decided how quickly it could move. “Well,” he murmured, gaze fixed on her finger. “That’s one way to make a guest feel welcome.” He did not reach for her immediately. Damon Salvatore was many things, there was no doubt. Reckless, vain, allergic to good advice, but he was not stupid. A witch offering blood was not charity. It was either temptation dressed as intimacy or a trap dressed as temptation. Venera had the irritating talent of making both look elegant. His eyes lifted slowly back to hers.

“Small taste,” he repeated, voice low, savoring the words like he found them funny, he stepped closer anyway. His hand came up, fingers closing around her wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind her that she had placed herself within reach of a predator and then asked him to behave like a gentleman. His thumb rested just beneath her palm, feeling the warmth of her skin, the faint pulse beneath it.

“Passionate, somewhat crazed mind,” Damon echoed, his mouth curving. “Cute. I usually call that a warning label.” For a moment, he only studied her. The blood trembled at the tip of her finger, bright and deliberate. His jaw tightened once, almost subtly, before he leaned in. Not to obey but to prove he could choose. His lips brushed the pad of her finger with maddening slowness. He took the single drop of blood from her skin, his eyes never leaving hers. The change was subtle at first. The stillness in him deepening, the blue of his gaze darkening with something hungry and old. He swallowed, and the silence after it felt louder than anything he could have said. Then he smiled. “There,” he said softly. “Receptive.”

His grip on her wrist shifted, his fingers sliding to turn her hand slightly, examining the tiny wound with theatrical concern. “Although, if I suddenly start chanting in Latin or pledging myself to one of your gods, I’m going to be very disappointed in both of us.” The humor remained, but there was steel underneath it now. He lifted his eyes back to hers, closer than before, close enough that the air between them felt less like space and more like restraint. “You keep talking about monsters like they’re philosophical puzzles,” Damon said quietly. “Something to dissect. Something to understand. Vampires. Witches. Hunters. Gods. All very tragic. All very poetic.” His thumb brushed once across her wrist. “But then you cut yourself open and offer blood to a vampire because you’re lonely and curious.” His smile thinned. “That isn’t philosophy, Venera. That’s playing with the match after admiring the fire.”

He released her hand only to catch her chin this time, turning her face up toward his with the same deliberate gentleness she had used on him. A mirror. A warning. A game. “And for the record,” he continued, voice dropping lower, “I don’t assume every gift is a transaction because I’ve lived too long. I assume it because people don’t give things away without wanting to see what happens after.” His gaze flicked briefly to her mouth, then returned to her eyes. “Lonely, curious, dangerous, complicated, forbidden…” Damon listed each word like he was tasting them too. “You make it sound romantic.” His fingers slipped from her chin, trailing just far enough to be felt before falling away. “It’s not.” The smile came back then, wicked and bright enough to undercut the warning without erasing it. “It is, however, very entertaining.”

Damon stepped back half an inch, just enough to deny her the satisfaction of knowing whether he had been tempted to close the distance completely. His tongue ran once along the edge of his teeth, casual and cruelly amused, as if the taste of her blood still lingered there. “You wanted me more receptive to your call?” His brows lifted. “Congratulations. You have my attention.” His eyes moved over her face, slower now, no longer pretending he was not searching for every crack beneath the polish. “But attention is not obedience.” He reached for his glass, but did not drink from it. Instead, he held it loosely at his side, watching her like she had become the only interesting thing in the room. “So here’s what happens next.” Damon’s voice softened, which somehow made it worse. “You tell me whether that was just a charming little display of your beautifully unhinged hospitality…” He leaned in again, close enough that the words seemed meant for her alone. “…or whether you just tried to put a leash on the wrong vampire. And choose carefully, Venera.” His eyes flicked once more to the tiny bead of red still staining her fingertip. “Because I bite back.”

[lumiiiscorner]

positivity for @bourbonxblood from anonymous

@bourbonxblood IS SUCH A FANTASTIC DAMON! My favourite! So glad we became mutuals I am absolutely elated with our dynamic! The tension is so good, and they are an absolute delight to chat to! Thank you for giving me the dynamic I was sorely missing xoxo

[bourbonxblood]

I've written more today than I have in i can't even remember how long. my brain is mush - still have some stuff queued up. feel free to send memes that i'll get to at some point this week...or come plot something.

i'll be here lurking

[videog4mes]

IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS ... SLOW BURN, EVERYTHING! a collection of random dialogue and action based concepts for those muses that are taking their sweet ass time or are being oblivious. some nsfw themes and strong language ahead. change verbiage and pronouns as needed. (send + reverse if desired.)

dialogue.

wait ... that's it? i've waited all this time for you and i only get a peck?

if i don't move away from you right now, i might just kiss you.

do you mind helping me with the back zipper ...?

this is never gonna happen, is it?

let's not keep wasting each other's time.

so ... are we just gonna eye-fuck all night or actually do something about this?

you have a crush on me?

do you or do you not love me? i need to know.

were you ever going to tell me?

i've been in love with you for as long as i can remember.

i never thought this would happen ... you've always been just out of my reach.

i can't wait anymore for you to open your eyes and realize i've been here all along.

why do you keep staring at my lips ...?

concepts.

hover. sender is standing so close to receiver that their lips are inches away. both are acutely aware that they keep staring at one another's lips and then eyes. does someone make a move?

at last. sender and receiver finally share their first kiss after an accidental confession of longterm feelings and it being reciprocated.

love note. sender sends receiver a letter confessing how they feel. how does receiver respond?

love in the rain. after a dramatic exchange between sender and receiver that ends with a deep kiss ruined by sudden pouring rain, receiver drags sender indoors to continue where they left off.

the zipper. sender asks receiver to help them with a zipper that's gotten stuck or is out of reach. the tension between the pair is high while receiver attempts to help.

friends don't. sender and receiver are best friends who are really comfortable around one another. sender who is in love with receiver, accidentally ends up on top of receiver during a playful moment. in that moment, it becomes obvious in the way that sender looks at receiver of what they feel for them. how does receiver respond?

[bourbonxblood]

I don't play fair, remember?

@malka-lisitsa

Damon glanced down at the checkerboard between them, then back up at Katherine, a smirk already plastered on his lips. His eyes narrowed with lazy amusement as she dragged one of her pieces across the board and jumped his. “Oh, I remember.” He leaned back in his chair, studying the board with theatrical offense. “I remember the lying. The manipulation. The dramatic entrances. The extremely annoying habit of looking innocent while committing felonies.”

His gaze lifted to hers, darker now, “Apparently checkers didn't make it onto the list of things you do do fair.” Damon reached forward, fingers brushing hers a second too long as he moved one of his pieces into place. Not the best move. Not even close. But it put her hand near his again, which was the point entirely. “You know,” he said, voice dipping lower, “most people just play the game. You treat every little red square like a battlefield.”

He tilted his head, eyes flicking over her face with shameless appreciation. “But then again…” His thumb grazed the edge of one of her pieces before he let it go. “You always did look good when you were trying to destroy me.” Damon moved his checker forward, then settled back into his chair. “Go ahead, Katherine. Cheat.” His eyes locked on hers. “Just don’t pout when I make you pay for it.”

[fatesfinal]

[bourbonxblood]

"Do you always push buttons?" ((seer!Max))

@normaltothemax Tension Liner Prompts

Damon’s smirk sharpened at the question, all lazy amusement and deliberate trouble. “Constantly.” He tilted his head, studying her like he was far too entertained by the fact that she’d noticed. “It’s sort of a hobby. His gaze drifted over her face, catching the sarcasm she wore like armor. That at least he understood. People who snapped first usually had good reasons for not wanting anyone close enough to ask why. “But you?” Damon took a small step back, hands lifting in mock surrender. “You make it way too easy.” His smile softened at the edges, though the teasing stayed firmly in place. “Besides, Max, if I was really pushing buttons, you'd know. This feels more like light recreational annoyance.”

[bourbonxblood]

"Do   you   always   get   close?"

@survivingpierce Tension Liner Prompts

Damon’s smirk appeared slowly, like he’d been waiting for her to ask exactly that. “Only with people who make backing away feel boring.” He stayed where he was, close enough that the space between them felt intentional, but not quite enough to give her the satisfaction of calling it a mistake. His eyes held hers, bright with amusement, a little too focused to be casual. “You’re the one who keeps letting me.” His gaze dipped for half a second, then returned to her face, the smile tugging wider. “Careful, Katherine.” His voice dropped, smooth and teasing. “Keep asking questions like that, and I’ll start to think you don’t mind me staying right here.”

[bourbonxblood]

"Stop   looking   at   me   like   that."

@gilbheart Tension Liner Prompts

Damon’s eyes flicked over her face once more before he looked away with exaggerated innocence, lifting one hand like he’d been caught committing some terrible crime. “Looking at you like what?” The corner of his mouth curved, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He leaned back slightly, pretending distance made him less obvious. “Concerned? Annoyed? Mildly impressed that you’re still standing here giving me orders?” His gaze found her again despite himself softer now though despite trying to bury it under the usual smirk. “Relax, Elena. I’m not trying to read your diary with my eyes. Though for the record, you make it very hard not to notice when something’s wrong.”

[normaltothemax]

Her lips twitched as she tried to suppress a smile. At least he had a sense of humour. That was already a step in the right direction. Maybe, if she was very lucky, sitting with such terrible company could salvage her evening.

The bartender approached, but before she could even open her mouth, the man beside her spoke again. Her brows lifted, Max blinking in surprise.

“That’s a dangerous thing to offer,” she pointed out. “Whatever I want. What happens if I want a whole bottle of top-shelf…forty-year-old whiskey,” she knew jackshit about whatever was considered ‘the good stuff’, but she was pretty sure older was better, “and…I dunno, fifty orders of nachos?”

She didn’t, obviously. But she was curious how he’d respond. Would he back out, tell her she was on her own, if that was the case, or would he double down?

What she actually ordered was a vodka-cranberry with a splash of orange juice. Sweet and tangy, the juice mostly hiding the taste of the vodka. Something she could get absolutely plastered off of, if she didn’t watch herself, but a couple of them wouldn’t hurt.

And it wasn’t like she was expecting him to pay for any additional drinks she had. Even one was unexpected.

“Thanks,” she says to the man as the bartender walks away to prepare her drink. “I appreciate it. But it does make me wonder: is this you being generous, or do I just look that rough?”

Max turned towards him a bit more, resting her own elbow on the bar. “Well, at least you’re honest about it. I’m pretty sure self-awareness is usually a plus.” As for ruining evenings, that remained to be seen. So far, he was managing to make hers a bit better—she would have to see if it lasted.

Grimacing, she looked away. “…Yeah. Something like that.” More like the universe showing her a whole bunch of shit she never wanted to see, but he was close enough.

She couldn’t help but smile slightly at his outstretched hand, snorting softly in amusement as she shook it, shaking her head. “Nice to meet you. I’m Max. It must be your lucky night—my day was impressively awful and I tend to have a habit of making terrible choices.”

She thanked the bartender as he placed her drink in front of her. Held it up in response to Damon’s in a toast. “Here’s to a hopefully interesting conversation then, I guess.”

[bourbonxblood]

Damon’s fingers closed around hers for the briefest moment, his grip cool and steady before he let go. His smile deepened at her answer, as though she had just confirmed something he had already suspected. “Max,” he repeated with a faint tilt of his head. “Impressively awful day, terrible choices, and a drink that tastes like fruit juice until it suddenly convinces you texting your ex at two in the morning is a good idea.” He lifted his glass toward hers, the rim meeting with a quiet clink. "To interesting conversation,” he said glancing around the empty bar, “and to setting the bar low enough that we can’t possibly be disappointed.” Damon took a drink, watching her over the edge of the glass. There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes now, sharper and more awake than before. “And for the record, if you had ordered a forty-year-old bottle and fifty orders of nachos, I would have paid for it.” He paused, letting that sit just long enough before continuing, “Mostly because I respect chaos when it commits.”

His gaze dropped briefly to her drink, then back to her face. “That wasn’t me calling you rough.” Damon leaned his elbow back against the bar, posture easy, almost careless. “You look tired. Annoyed. Possibly one inconvenience away from committing a misdemeanor.” His mouth curved. “Different category. And, Generous is a strong word. Makes me sound like I donate to charity and help old ladies cross the street.” His brows lifted faintly. “I bought you a drink because you looked like you needed one and because I know enough to recognize when somebody doesn’t want sympathy, but could probably survive one decent distraction.”

Damon leaned closer by a fraction, not enough to crowd her, just enough to make the space between them feel intentional.

“So, Max.” His eyes narrowed with renewed amusement. “Since you’ve already admitted to terrible choices, let’s start there. Are we talking mildly regrettable? Skipped work to day drink regrettable? Or fullblown ‘I should have known better, but apparently my survival instincts were on lunch break’ regrettable?” He lifted his glass again, smiling into it before taking another slow sip. “Choose carefully. I’m judging, but charmingly.”

[bourbonxblood]

i'm at work and actually falling asleep at my desk me & the owner are the only ones here so maybe i'll try to crank a few drafts/inbox things out.

[gloomglimmer]

›       TENSION   LINER   PROMPTS     

"I   dare   you   to   try."

"Do   you   always   get   close?"

"You’re   pushing   my   limits."

"Stop   looking   at   me   like   that."

"I’m   losing   control   here."

"You   have   no   idea,   do   you?"

"I   can’t   resist   you   anymore."

"Stay   back,   or   don’t."

"I   know   what   you   want."

"This   is   getting   dangerous   now."

"You’re   too   tempting   for   me."

"I   shouldn’t   want   this,   but…"

"I   don’t   play   fair,   remember?"

"Careful,   you’re   testing   me."

"You’re   just   making   it   worse."

"You’re   too   close   for   comfort."

"Do   you   always   push   buttons?"

"Stop   before   I   kiss   you."

"You’re   making   it   too   hard."

"I   can’t   stop   thinking   about   you."

"I   want   you   too   much."

"You   know   exactly   what   you’re   doing."

"I’m   not   playing   games   here."

"You’ve   crossed   the   line   now."

"Keep   pushing,   and   you’ll   regret   it."

"This   is   dangerous,   isn’t   it?"

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"Don’t   make   me   regret   this."

"You’re   playing   with   fire."

"You   don’t   know   what’s   coming."

"I   shouldn’t   be   this   close."

"We’re   getting   dangerously   close   now."

"I   can   feel   the   heat."

"Don’t   test   me   right   now."

"I   want   you   too   badly."

"Don’t   make   me   chase   you."

"You’re   distracting   me,   you   know."

"I   won’t   fall   for   this."

"I   want   you,   but…"

"What   do   you   want   from   me?"

"I’ll   never   give   in."

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"You’re   playing   with   my   patience."

"Don’t   make   this   harder,   please."

"I   can’t   stop   this   feeling."

"I’m   already   in   too   deep."

"You   won’t   walk   away   unscathed."

"You’re   walking   a   fine   line."

"I’m   trying   to   stay   calm."

"What   are   you   doing   to   me?"

[doeeyedgilbert]

doe eyes followed the back of damon's raven hair as she sauntered up to the bar, she was almost tempted to ask him where the hell stefan had been... that's what had etched the irritation mainly across her visage but then she remembered this is damon. she couldn't ask him that, he'd used it against her. "then why are you here? ... if whatever you think about is still there." the brunette taunted a little, even if she genuinely found herself curious what exactly did swirl around in a mind like his. "not really into alcohol. just came here looking for caroline since we all kinda got split up at the bonfire earlier." but she slipped into the empty seat next to him anyway, purse falling into her lap, elbows touching the cool table. looking forward at the menu she wouldn't be ordering off of.

[bourbonxblood]

Damon’s gaze shifted toward her as she took the empty seat, one brow arching at the question. For a second, he considered giving her the easy answer. Bourbon. Boredom. Instead, he glanced down at the drink in his hand. “Because knowing something won’t work has never stopped me from trying it anyway.” The admission came casually, almost careless, but he covered it with a faint smirk before she could examine it too closely. Damon lifted the glass again, taking a drink as his attention moved toward the entrance behind her. “You might want to check whichever group is being the loudest. Or find the nearest unattended keg and follow the sound of unsolicited social advice.” His eyes returned to Elena, briefly taking in the purse settled protectively in her lap and the menu she clearly had no intention of using. “You know, most people who aren’t into alcohol don’t usually wander into bars alone after dark.” He rested an elbow against the counter, turning slightly toward her. “Especially when they’re already irritated enough to start interrogating the locals.” There was no real edge behind it. Damon knew the irritation wasn’t entirely about Caroline, but he had enough sense not to pry at something Elena clearly wasn’t offering. A rare display of restraint. “Relax. I’m not going to use this opportunity to corrupt you.” His mouth curved with practiced innocence. “Unless ordering fries counts. I’ve heard they’re a gateway food.” He signaled toward the bartender before looking back at her. “I haven’t seen Caroline, but I can help you look.” Damon paused, his expression flattening with mock seriousness. “Mostly because watching you roam around Mystic Falls asking every stranger if they’ve seen her sounds exhausting.”

[normaltothemax]

Max was tired. She was exhausted, and her head hurt, and the visions had been so much worse than usual all goddamn day—blood, guts, and gore galore. People finding brand new ways to torture and murder, and she got a front row seat to it all.

Fucking fantastic.

Deciding a drink (or five) was well deserved, she closed shop early and headed to the nearest bar, planning on drowning her misery the old fashioned way. But something felt off. Wrong. Like she should turn tail and walk right back out. Like it was a bad idea just to be there.

Seriously, it was like the whole world was conspiring against her to ruin her day. Totally fucking unfair, was what it was.

She made her way to the bar and glanced over at the man when he spoke, a bit more of that unease settling in her gut. Danger. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt a warning like that, but it also wasn’t strong enough to completely deter her. It didn’t feel like she was actively in danger, more like he was just dangerous in general.

How fun.

“Your optimism is truly inspiring,” she responded dryly after a moment. “Really know how to cheer a girl up. How do you do it?”

She shouldn’t sit next to him. The smart thing to do would be to leave.

Max felt like she was owed a little stupidity after the day she’d had.

“It definitely will be,” she agreed, “but a distraction for a while could be nice.” She slid onto the stool next to him. “Are you included in the ‘bad company’? Like, do I need to brace myself for a TED Talk about the joys of cryptocurrency, or something?”

[bourbonxblood]

Damon’s gaze shifted toward her as she took the empty stool, one brow lifting at the mention of cryptocurrency. For the first time that evening, the amusement in his expression looked almost genuine. “Please.” He placed a hand against his chest, feigning offense. “I may be terrible company, but I have standards.” He turned slightly toward her, resting one elbow against the bar. Up close, the exhaustion was harder to miss. It sat beneath her eyes and in the tension she carried through her shoulders, like she had spent the entire day waiting for something else to go wrong. Damon recognized the look. He had worn it often enough. The bartender appeared, and Damon gestured toward the empty space in front of her. “Whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.” His attention returned to the stranger now occupying his full attention, eyes narrowing faintly when he noticed the unease that still lingered beneath her sarcasm. She had looked at him the way prey sometimes did when instinct noticed something the mind hadn’t caught up with yet. Most people ignored that feeling. Apparently, so did she. “Although, for the sake of full disclosure, I was including myself.” Damon lifted his glass, turning the watered-down bourbon between his fingers. “Bad attitude, questionable decision-making skills, long and deeply concerning history of ruining perfectly decent evenings.”

He took another drink before setting it down. “But no lectures. No sales pitches. And I’m not emotionally invested enough in your life to tell you that whatever happened today was part of some grand plan.” His gaze moved over her face again, sharper than his casual tone suggested. “You look like you’ve already had enough people, or possibly the universe, telling you what you’re supposed to do.”

The corner of his mouth curved as he leaned back against the bar. “So, distraction it is.” He extended a hand toward her with exaggerated formality. “Damon. Resident bad company and occasional cautionary tale.” His eyes flicked toward the bartender preparing her drink. “And you are… someone who willingly ignored every survival instinct she had and sat down beside a strange man in an empty bar. Which means either your day was impressively awful, or you make terrible choices.” Damon tipped his glass toward her. “I’m hoping for both. It’ll make the conversation more interesting.”

[visionhad]

THERE WAS A LONG PAUSE, silence creeping in amongst the cracking of the flame in front of them. The faint glow presses against her hands, and she knows it's probably making Damon's eyes more visible underneath the darkening sky. Bonnie realized that it was better to come up with a way out, an exit, to run rather than sit with the fact that this was completely unlike her. Damon listed all those reasons that she could've used to come up with an elaborate lie and run once more, but the exhaustion and anxiety that flares whenever Damon's even mentioned has gotten bad enough where explosions could happen from all angles either way. Bonnie's guilt sits in her stomach like an illness, like she's going to vomit up her organs if asked the wrong question. She used to think she was above all of this, a girl's girl who wouldn't even dream of looking at her friend's boyfriend. But then the prison world happened, and everything began to fall apart, including her sanity and her perception of her own being. Bonnie can feel that her hands are verging on shaking, and her head feels like it's spinning even now, yet she forces out a sigh, a way to keep her breathing even though she knows Damon can hear the rapid beating of her heart even now.

"I don't have an excuse." She finally says, waving a metaphorical white flag as she clasps her hands over her knees. Guilt ridden and a traitor, the Bennett witch can feel sparks of magic erupt from her fingertips. Her throat is dry enough where even talking feels like a chore, but this is a conversation that needed to be had regardless. There was too much at stake. "When I was in there, I wanted to kill myself." Spoken like it was just an afterthought, a rise and fall to her shoulders. Sad and depressed inside an isolated and weakened state, the prison world still feels heavy to even mention. Her powers had been taken before, she's had limitations, but this was another kind of pain. Her powers were scratching under her skin with nowhere to go, and she couldn't draw upon anything in order to relieve the devastation she was beginning to feel. For a witch, that hurt is in her core. It affects everything, and Damon watched her drink herself to sleep a little more than he needed to be.

"I was beginning to think we'd never be back home again and it - it scared me. But I had hope that our friends would save us, because for some reason we always find our way back to being kind of okay for a little while before things blow up in our face again." That last comment comes out weighted, sand might as well be in her tired eyes.

"And then we made a mistake, and now I'm feeling like the worst person alive." Spoken to the fire, a confession placed on each rising ember. There's a small grumble of thunder above, and Bonnie knew it was her own sadness showing through the cracks.

There's a moment of silence before she's speaking again, still looking out at the fire before she's slowly letting her gaze fall onto Damon, studying his features quietly, the glimmer in his eyes catching her in a moment's weakness. Her chest aches, words barely finding themselves because it's all too much to shove out into the universe because who knows who could be listening. The thunder rumbles again, a hand coming up to thread through her curls before there's another forced out breath, narrowing of her brows, tenseness of her chin and jaw."I don't have an excuse because I don't want it to become more real than it already is." Couldn't they go back to pretending? "I'm trying to move on from being there, it hurts to even think about, Damon."

[bourbonxblood]

Damon went completely still. Not at the mention of the kiss. Not at the word mistake. It was the sentence before all of that that caught beneath his ribs and stayed there. For once, there was no sarcastic remark waiting on his tongue. No poorly timed joke to make the confession smaller or easier to carry. His eyes remained on the fire, but he wasn’t seeing it anymore. He was remembering the empty bottles lined along the counter. The mornings she hadn’t wanted to move. The nights when her silence had been too heavy, even for a place where silence was the only thing they had in abundance. He had known she was falling apart.

“Bonnie.”

Her name came without the nickname this time. Damon turned toward her, but he didn’t reach for her immediately. The way she held herself, as though one wrong movement might cause every carefully constructed piece of her to collapse stopped him. “You should’ve told me.” There was no accusation in it. Only regret. Then his mouth twisted into a faint, humorless smile. “Which is hypocritical coming from the guy whose preferred coping mechanism was drinking until the furniture started looking judgmental, but still.” He looked back toward the fire, allowing the silence to settle without demanding she fill it. When he finally moved, it was only enough for his shoulder to rest against hers again. A small point of contact. Nothing she had to answer for. “I’m not asking you to make it more real.” His voice remained low, nearly swallowed by another distant rumble of thunder. “I’m not asking you to explain it, define it, defend it, or give me some beautifully rehearsed speech about what it meant.” His gaze dropped to her clasped hands. Slowly, carefully, he placed one of his over them, stilling the tremor he could feel beneath his palm. “And I’m definitely not asking you to relive that place just because my fragile ego doesn’t appreciate being avoided.” The attempt at humor barely reached his expression. His thumb moved once against her knuckles before becoming still. “But you don’t get to call yourself the worst person alive.” His eyes lifted to hers. “Trust me, I know the competition. You don’t even make the top hundred.” Damon held her gaze for a moment, the fire reflecting against the blue of his eyes. “What happened in there doesn’t erase who you are out here. You were scared. You were alone. Your magic was gone, and every day looked exactly like the one before it.” His voice tightened, betraying more than he intended. “And somehow, you still kept me alive. You still found a reason to keep moving, even when you couldn’t find one for yourself.” His hand remained over hers, not restraining her. Simply there. “And whatever happened between us…” He paused, choosing the words with visible reluctance. “It doesn’t have to become anything you’re not ready to deal with. I’m not going to corner you into admitting it mattered. I’m not going to chase you around Mystic Falls demanding an explanation.” A faint crease appeared between his brows. “But don’t disappear on me, Bon. Not after a year of being the only two people left in the universe. You don’t have to talk about the prison world. You don’t have to talk about the kiss. You don’t even have to look at me if you don’t want to.” His shoulder pressed slightly more firmly against hers. “Just don’t make me lose you now that we finally got home.”