You groaned as you trekked behind the group, fully convinced that this could not get any worse. Not only was the southern heat creating a shine of sweat on your skin, but the constant bickering from the rest of your cohort was driving you crazy.
"If you're annoyed Elena, imagine how the vampires feel. We could've just zipped through the woods without you guys." Caroline made an excellent point.
"So why did we even come?" Your question was exasperated and Damon's light laugh came from behind you, one of his hands coming to rest on your lower back.
"The more eyes there are, the more likely we are to find this tomb." Stefan replied.
"I would argue that you guys could've covered five times as much ground by this point if we weren't slowing you down." You paused your walk for a moment, head thrown back to try and gulp in some of the balmy air.
That air promptly left your lungs, however, when Damon swept you into his arms. You couldn't help but shriek a bit, hastily wrapping your arms around his neck. "Damon. I'm sticky and stinky."
He raised an eyebrow at you, lips arranging themselves in a mirthful smile. "My favorite version of you."
The darkness in the room was almost suffocating you but you didn't have the strength to not suffer inside of it. You didn't know how long you had been sitting there, or when it had gotten so bad, but somewhere along the way you had stopped caring.
You had days like this sometimes, where your mental health was virtually nonexistent and you would rather sit alone in the dark with your thoughts rather than flick the light on and reveal the very real things behind those thoughts.
You vaguely heard the door open downstairs, and Damon's voice was like a lance through the fog in your mind. "Babe? Are you upstairs?"
You stayed silent though, brow furrowing while you tried to overcome the block in your brain that was stopping you from speaking. All that came was a frustrated sigh.
That was enough for the vampire, who quickly appeared in your room, seeming unperturbed by the thick blanket of darkness and despair. He came to sit next to you on the edge of the bed, hand finding yours to interlace your fingers.
"Bad brain day?" His tone was gentle, not a hint of judgement tinged into it. You appreciated that.
You gave a nod, slumping into the safety of his arms. He was always so sturdy, a rock against whatever storm you encountered.
He hummed low in his throat and pulled you both back onto the bed, turning on the fairy lights hanging around the room and tucking you under his chin.
That was where you laid for hours before he convinced you to have dinner, more than happy to let you feel whatever you needed.
"Are we sure that she is not going to lose her mind when she finds us doing this?" Damon sounded incredibly unsure, paintbrush dangling from his fingers.
You discarded your own, placing hands on hips before you replied. "It's washable paint and it's Caroline's 18th birthday!! Decorating her car is a great idea, trust me."
He raised an eyebrow at you and approached, coming chest to chest and threatening to get the paint dripping from his brush onto you. "Painting the most OCD Barbie I know's car as a surprise? Seems risky."
Your smile was devilish in return. "Since when does a little risk scare you, Salvatore?" You had barely finished your sentence before a gasp escaped, a line of paint now going down your cheek.
"Literally never." He lunged away as you grabbed for him, and you ended up painting yourselves much more than you touched the car.
this is an an unnamed point in the timeline, somewhere just before Thunderbolts*
Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
summary: Bucky Barnes would consider himself a level headed man; at least in these later years of his life. He was rarely reckless. So what was it about you that made him dive over that ledge so quickly?
//or; you're not home when you're supposed to be, and Bucky is about to burn a couple of buildings down.
The only sound that accompanies Bucky on his trek home is silence. The sun has already set, a darkened twilight pulling at the edges of the skyscrapers at his back. The house he was in the process of buying sat on the very edge of usually bustling city streets, close enough for both him and his fiancee to conduct business but not in the trenches of downtown traffic, either.
He pauses just before the front door, a furrow between his brow, and scans the long road for any sign of the familiar car that should be parked there. You were almost always home by now, your job not keeping you past a sharp 5pm on the worst of days; but maybe you were out with friends?
He shakes his shoulders slightly, trying to relieve the tension there, and bites back at his anxiety. There was no reason that you weren't perfectly safe, and maybe he would find a text waiting for him when he fished his phone out of his pocket.
He did just that, placing his keys on the table in the dining room and sticking his hand into the pocket of his dark washed jeans. The screen lit his face in the dim light of the house, but it didn't show anything that he had wanted to see.
No notifications.
Against his better judgment, there was a bubble of dread pooling in his stomach. You almost always told him where you were going, especially if you knew that you weren't going to be home when he arrived.
Bucky's jaw worked against itself for just a moment before he makes the silent decision to check your location. He doesn't make a habit of it, and insisted when he asked for it that it was just going to be for emergencies. You hadn't minded either way, more than happy to share it with him if it gave him some peace of mind.
He opened the app with a slightly shaking finger and almost crushed his phone in his hand when it announced that it did not have a current location for you. Last known location was home, nearly three hours ago.
The phone slammed onto the counter and Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face, mind instantly going through the different possibilities of your whereabouts. He tries to remember if you had told him you had some sort of appointment, there was never service in the doctors office, so your location wouldn't update. But three hours?
He dials your number and it rings through to that pitchy voicemail song you insisted was endearing but lasted way too long. Hanging up with a low growl, he dials the number again and his heart beats in time with the ringing on the line. Voicemail, again.
His keys are in his hand and he's dialing a new number before he can even think about it, heading to the garage to get his motorcycle.
"Do you miss me that much? We saw each other thirty minutes ago." Sam's joking but he sounds tense, instantly aware that Bucky should not be calling him right now.
"She didn't tell me where she was going." The tarp is ripped off of his bike angrily. "Her location hasn't updated in three hours and when it was working, it says she was home." Bucky heaves a breath, shutting his eyes for a moment. "No signs of forced entry. But something isn't right, Sam."
"Meet at my office in ten, we'll see if we can't get some footage. Keep calling her."
Bucky nods to himself and reopens his eyes.
"And Bucky?"
"Yes?"
"She's going to be fine."
Bucky's grip on his phone is too tight as he presses the end call button. You would be fine; or a whole lot of people wouldn't be.
The feeling of the gun strapped to his hip is familiar in a disgusting way, but it's also the promise of vengeance. He would be whatever version of himself he needed to keep you safe.
--
You definitely should not have come to this new bulk store on its first day open, but your best friend had basically strong armed you into checking out the opening day sales and grabbing her a list of things because she was on the night shift at the hospital.
It was like Costco and Fred Meyer had a baby, some conglomerate bulk buy store with insane prices but equally insane hours and popularity.
You huff a sigh as your loading the overfull cart into the trunk of your car, the quickly darkening sky a sign that the trip took way too long. You feel your body go completely still as your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket. When you first walked out of the store, you thought that it was just Rachel texting you over and over about whether or not you got the correct things. But it hadn't stopped, and you realized with sharp clarity that it could very well be Bucky. Panicking over your whereabouts. It was well past your time to be home, and you hadn't remembered to leave a note in the rush to get there before the store closed.
Fishing your phone out of your jacket pocket, your heart hammers in your chest against the sight. 20 missed calls from Bucky, a few from Sam, and a whole slew of texts. You don't bother to sift through them all, You just punch Bucky's number in and hit dial. Hoping that he isn't terrified.
"Doll." The voice isn't coming from the receiver of your phone, but behind you.
You whirl around and Bucky is there, just a few feet behind you, and advancing. You notice immediately that he's stiff as a board, a taut pull at his shoulders and jaw clenched tight. Your eyes snag at the gun on his hip before he's on you, arms enveloping you in a tight hug. He doesn't like to carry that with him anymore. He must've been really worried.
"I'm so sorry. I forgot to text you or leave a note and Rachel insisted I come tonight but I barely had time to get in there after work.." Bucky pulls away from you just slightly, those ocean eyes pitching a tempest. "I'm sorry, Buck. I'm okay."
He pulls back into you then, his head resting on your shoulder. You can feel his breaths ease to match yours, and he just holds you in this bustling parking lot like no one else exists.
"I thought I was going to have to burn this place down." His voice is gravelly, but it's mostly a joke.
You pull away and give him a sly smile. "You thought it was a super secret cover up for a kidnapping ring?"
Bucky shrugs, slinging an arm over your shoulder and leading you to the passenger seat of the car. "Whatever it was, it wasn't going to be anymore."
You laugh lightly and slide into the opened door, marveled by your very own super soldier once again.
"Sounds reckless."
He pauses before he shuts the car door, leaning over so you're face to face again. "Always reckless for you, sweetheart." A quick peck to your lips and he's shutting the door.
**this takes places during Thunderbolts*, WILL have spoilers*
Bucky Barnes x F! Reader
summary; Bucky receives the call from Mel to come and find the ragtag bunch that just escaped Valentina; he struggles with what to do. But you've always been there to help him.
I feel my brows pinch together in worry when Bucky's shoulders stiffen, my coffee paused just before my lips. I can only hear his part of the conversation, but he seems incessant about something.
"I don't do that anymore." His voice comes out gravelly, and my cup is discarded on the island between us. Something big was happening.
He mumbles something else and hangs up, his phone hitting the counter with a bit too much force. He still doesn't turn to look at me.
"Jamie." I say it quietly, looping around the middle of the kitchen and coming to stand at his side. My hand raises to rest on his taut shoulders and I can feel him twitch just slightly beneath me. He's stiff, and when those eyes finally look up to meet mine there's a storm raging in them.
Just when I think he's going to pull away, like he would in the early days of our relationship and something rocked him like this, he steps toward me instead. Arms banding themselves around my waist and his head dropped to my shoulder, I hold him close to me. I just listen to his breathing, and wait for him.
"There's a situation." He says finally, pulling away from me and showing those tempest eyes. "Valentina tried to trick her ghost operatives into killing each other and when that didn't work, they escaped. I need to bring them in." Bucky started tidying the mess we had made during dinner, keeping his hands busy. "I arrest them, they testify against her, and everyone's happy. Some assassins are behind bars and Valentina finally gets impeached." He stops fidgeting and heaves a sigh, head dropping back, eyes closed.
My hand goes to rest on the one he has splayed across the counter, but he doesn't open his eyes.
"Are you sure that's what you want to do?"
Bucky's eyes blink open and he looks at me, confused. "Of course. I'm a congressman now, doll. Even apprehending them is way beyond my jurisdiction. I need to try and put them through due processes. Let the law handle it."
I can see it, the uncertainty in his face and the muscles of his jaw working against the words he's saying, like they taste bad.
"I think that, maybe, you're afraid the law won't handle it justly." I proceed carefully, not wanting to upset him farther. "Weren't you telling me a few days ago that Natasha's sister was one of Valentina's assets?" Bucky had always talked about Natasha and Steve like they hung the moon. A former Red Room assassin, Natasha Romanoff was everything that Bucky strives to be. Better. Someone who faces their mistakes head on, and works through them. Apologizes for them. Dies for them, though he never glorifies that, I know that he respects it on a level I could never understand.
His silence is the answer I need.
"Do you think it's fair? That Yelena would be behind bars but you get to go to the next congressional meeting?" His eyes snap to mine, a glacier blue burning against my own. I wasn't trying to hurt him, but make him understand these complicated emotions I know were cementing him in place right now.
"I've done my time, babe. Yelena has showed no signs of changing her life around. She's still killing people, just for a different organization." He pulls his hand out from under mine and walks to the fridge, putting his half empty water in there to retrieve later.
The light of the refrigerator cuts a stark image of him in our kitchen; this man in his newly pressed dress shirt, metal arm glinting in the low light. This was a new Bucky; one of many that I had seen, and I wasn't convinced that this was the one he felt most comfortable being.
I follow him, hands coming up to rub small circles along his back as he shuts the fridge door. "Certainly we can't compare the CIA and the Red Room?" Quietly, I do. But that won't help matters here. "How do we know that she isn't trying to turn over a new leaf in the only way she knows how? You had a support system, Buck. She has nothing."
He doesn't say anything and we stand like that for a moment. His hands braced on either side of the fridge, I can see indents forming there where he's squeezing just a little too hard. A war raging in him that I don't control. There's no ceasefire to be called; he has to reconcile with himself.
He turns to be abruptly and pulls me against him. I feel his cool hand at the back of my head before he draws me forward, lips melding to mine with a bruising force. When he pulls away, there's a new resolve there. He's made his decision, whatever that may be.
"I'm going to go and get them." He pauses for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth. "But I think I'm going to talk to them first. Try to gauge what they're thinking. Maybe you're right."
I smile as he pulls away from me, holding his hand in mine as long as I can before he's across the room heading to change.
"But if I find an excuse to hit Walker, I'm taking it." He throws over his shoulder, a small smile as a gift to me.
My laugh is light. "I would expect nothing less."
I'll be staying up tonight, as long as my already tired body would let me, to be sure that I'm awake when he gets home. His demons in tow and uncertainty in every step. It's nights like this that he'll need to be reminded how far he's come; who he is now.
If you hadn't sat with Caroline through her sickness a week prior, you would've thought that someone had poisoned you. Well you suppose someone had, but Caroline's poisoning was inadvertent. You were the one who had chosen to take care of your ailing friend, and now you were being punished for it.
You could hear your phone vibrating from it's spot on the bedside table but you lacked the effort and energy to roll over in your king sized bed and grabbed it. Your apartment was blazingly hot for some reason, and all you could do was lay in a pile of your own sweat and groan.
Maybe you were dying.
You had no clue how long you had laid helplessly in bed before you could hear a key slide into the lock of your front door. You vaguely thought it might be someone coming to put you out of your misery, but anyone that would do that probably didn't have a key.
"Babe?" Damon's voice resonated through your still house, carrying up the stairs and into your open bedroom.
You groaned loud enough that there was no way his heightened senses missed it, and almost groaned at the nice rush of cold air he brought with his as he sped upstairs.
He seated himself on your bed lightly, a cool hand reaching out to slide across your forehead. "Jesus Christ, babe, you're burning up."
You had it in you to laugh a bit mockingly before a coughing fit took over. "I'm pretty sure I'm dying."
He took that a bit too seriously and a crease formed between his brows. He pulled you a bit closer to him, noticing the sweat forming on your neck. "How long have you been feeling this way?"
"Since I woke up, whenever that was. I don't know what time it is."
"It's almost four, which is why I showed up. We were set to have lunch at 3, and you're never late." Damon pulled his phone out, rapid firing off a few texts before pulling you into his arms and standing up.
You groaned against the movement and let out a little shiver. "Where are we going?"
His voice was a rumble in his chest against your cheek. "We are going to get you in the shower to try and break the fever while the reinforcements bring over some things we need."
"Shower." You knew that your parroting was weak but it was all you had in you at the moment, and Damon thought you were a mix of adorable and dying.
He got it warmed up while you sat on the toilet, head thrown back to lean against the wall and eyes squinted against the harsh overhead lights. When the water was ready, Damon lit a few candles around the bathroom and shut off the lights to stave off of your headache.
"I'll be running around the house doing a few things, yell if you need me." He gave you a peck on the forehead and you gave him your best smile as he exited the bathroom.
You don't know how long you sat in the shower, but you had to turn up the heat multiple times to get rid of the cold water encroaching from your time inside. You crawled out hesitantly, toweling off against the dizziness in your head and wrapping yourself in your robe.
Stepping out of the bathroom, you noticed that your bedroom had been transformed. Damon had not been lying about running around the house.
There were a few candles lit around the room and the overhead light was off, the only light from the candles, the green LED's behind your bed and the queued up show on the TV. Your recent favorite. Damon was splayed out on your bed with his ankles crossed, he had a pile of your favorite snacks and some steaming soup on the bedside table.
You crawled into bed next to him, the musk of his smell being almost all the medicine you needed. You curled in deep while he wrapped his arm around you and grabbed the TV remote, settling in for the long haul.
summary; you're having a really heavy day, and it's so hard to pull yourself out from under it on the especially hard days. bucky always notices those days, and the little things he does mean the world
If you sighed another particularly deep one, you were pretty sure that you were going to sink into the couch entirely and there would be nothing for Bucky to find when he returned from running errands.
The book you had attempted to read in an attempt to distract your thoughts lay open on the side table near the couch, your phone glued to your hand instead while you infinitely scrolled through your ever refreshing feed.
You close your eyes briefly against a sudden onslaught of emotion and the tears prickling at the back of your eyes anger you beyond reason. This was such an exhausting feeling, and you had no clue how to chase it away.
You set your phone down beside you and scrub a hand over your eyes, hearing the front door open you quickly try to act like you're not in the middle of absolutely losing your shit.
You push into a sitting position but he's already there on his knees in front of the couch, that pinch in his brow full of worry for you.
"It's bad, huh doll?"
Your eyes close tightly again, the care in his voice almost too much. His arms reach out and band around your waist, his head resting in your lap while he waits for you to be ready to talk to him. You lean into the touch, your own arms wrapping around his shoulders. The pads of his thumbs rub small circles on your lower back, and your next sigh is a lightening one.
He lifts his head just a bit and you meet that deep blue gaze, his small smile disturbing butterflies in your stomach. "I brought you a couple of presents."
A smile breaks across your face. "Of course you did. Well, Jamie, don't keep me waiting."
He chuckles and stands quickly, grabbing the bag he had placed to the side when he walked in the room. He takes a set next to you on the couch, your legs settled against each other and you bend your head to rest on his shoulder while he digs around in the plastic.
The first thing he pulls out of the bag is the most adorable penguin squish you've ever seen in your life. It's roughly the size of your fist and when he passes it over, you find that it's soft as silk.
"I thought that he could keep you company when I'm not here. In case you have a heavy day and I'm out on mission." The explanation is succinct, and he's digging back through the bag, but I'm staring at the little stuffy in my hands.
The physical embodiment of our love. Him wanting me to have something to hold onto.
"We should get a dog." You say when he grabs the next item out and he laughs, a gravelly sound that makes you shiver.
"Soon. Not quite, though." He hands you the next item and its a family size container of your favorite sweets. Your jaw drops at the sheer size of it and he nods, an appreciative smile on his face. "I thought that was a winner."
"This shouldn't be legal."
"But it is, and we must take advantage." He roots around the bag once more and you set the candy aside, pulling his hand out of the bag to wrap around you.
He raises a brow but drops it and turns, scooping you up and into his lap. You settle in and glue yourself to his chest, this chuckle reverberating through your own body.
"I wasn't done yet."
"You're the thing I need the most, Buck."
He hums lowly and settles into the couch, each point where your bodies are touching you begin to thaw - to relax.
hii can I request a dark! stefan salvatore x reader when he’s trying to court her and she keeps rejecting him? n
ya'll have got me in my toxic era but i love it.
resolute
stefan salvatore x f!reader
summary: you had an intrigue for the Salvatore, sure. But you had enough self preservation to know that look in his eye was anything but safe.
.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．
You didn't know when everyone had suddenly vacated the room to finish their respective tasks for the upcoming night, but before you noticed it was just you and Stefan.
That had been a problem lately.
You didn't know when his looks had turned from scathing to indifferent to something entirely else. All you knew was that it elicited a heat in you that you weren't sure was good or bad.
"Come here often?" His voice, to your chagrin, always had an effect on you. It was smooth and low, confident without trying. The flirty smirk on his face didn't help at all.
You feigned a mask of indifference, eyes rolling upward. "Yes, unfortunately. Your living room seems to be where we host team meetings." You grabbed one of the muffins off of the coffee table and sat in the armchair across from his stance by the fireplace.
He stalked closer to you and you tried to ignore the flutter of your heart, definite fear this time. Stefan Salvatore had made it very clear that he was no longer a predictable man, and that was more than enough to worry you. "I could do without the constant children running around, but if it brings you over then I'm more than happy."
You rose from your seat when he sat down in the one next to it, nervously chucking the muffin wrapper in the trash and making toward the exit. "Why I would love to stay and chat, I think it might be my nap time."
He was in front of you before you could take another step. One hand up to play with the strand of hair that swayed with the wind of his imperceptible movement, eyes holding you in place. "You can always use my bed if you want."
Your smile was sharper than you thought you could muster, your own hand reaching up to grasp his wrist and pull it down. "In your dreams tonight, Stefan."
You tried to ignore the muttered I hope while you strolled out of the house.
---
"Look, man. I'm really not in the mood for this. I said no." Your arms were crossed tightly across your chest like some kind of shield from the argument you were in with the random drunk man in front of you.
You blamed the midnight craving you had for mozzarella sticks, knowing full well the closer at The Grill wouldn't charge you for them, and nowhere else was open in that small town that late. Usually you could ignore the chronically drunks at the bar, but this guy would not get out of your face and Aaron was still missing in the kitchen, preparing your food.
"Listen, little lady, why don't you drop the tough girl act and let me show you a good time?" He was almost unbearably close to you now, the stench of cheap tequila assaulting your nose.
You opened your mouth to reply but a squeak came out instead when Stefan appeared behind the man, a grip hard enough on his arm to make him bellow and a murderous shadow over his eyes.
"I think she told you to fuck off."
"Okay man, shit! Jeeze. I'll back off." The large man was struggling to wiggle from Stefan's grasp and you pinned the vampire with a pleading look, knowing he was one word from tearing the guys heart out.
Stefan seemed to understand your desperation, and begrudgingly dropped his hold. "Leave. Now." The drunkard had probably never moved faster in his life.
You sighed, taking your seat at the bar stool and trying to ignore the sideways glances of the other patrons. How long did it take to fry mozzarella sticks?
Stefan slid on the stool next to you, his body facing yours. "What're you doing out so late?"
You shrugged, chin coming down to wrest on your hand. "I took a nap earlier, and I woke up with a craving for mozzarella sticks."
His smile was small, but you enjoyed it all the same. It was rare to get a genuine smile out of him, and while he might not be your favorite, you had to be proud about that. "You don't have any at home?"
"We both know that nothing beats a greasy fryer." You didn't miss his eyes tracing your lips.
"Will you go to dinner with me tomorrow? Somewhere out of this small ass town?" He looked genuine, an eyebrow cocked and fingers playing with the daylight ring on his hand with something you perceived as nervousness.
"Hey, here's those greasy cheese sticks. Sorry it took so long." Aaron was quick with his megawatt smile, sliding the food across the bar before he went to help someone at the other end.
You glanced after him before you looked back to Stefan, teasing your lip between your teeth. Grabbing the food and standing from your seat, you gave him a small smile before leaving.
"I don't think so, Stefan."
---
Your heart was about to beat out of your chest but you knew that your life depended on running. You turned down a dark alley, subconsciously wondering when the hell Mystic Falls got so many alleys, and realized that you'd hit a dead end.
Typical horror girl. You would laugh at your stupidity if the footsteps of the angry vampire behind you didn't make you panic close to tears. Your breathing almost stopped when you came to the realization that this most certainly was it. You knew since the day that your friend outed herself as a vampire that this day would come. You couldn't play with these sorts of things, because they would play back. And you had come to learn that humans are very fragile.
"Don't panic, little one. It's nothing personal. I'll make it quick." His voice grated down your back as you whirled to face him, staggered steps back into the alley. The vampire reminded you of a cat, head down but eyes tilted up, demure smile and slow walk to pin her deeper in the alley. They were predators, through and through.
Your gulp was audible. "Make it quick, then."
His smile turned feral, and you closed your eyes like the scared human you were and waited for the end.
But it never came.
There was a gurgling sound and your eyes reluctantly opened, taking in the scene before you with a certain sense of familiarity.
The vampire had a steady stream of blood dripping from the corners of his mouth but he dropped to the ground quickly, leaving the younger Salvatore brother standing there, heart in hand.
His eyes found yours, a wildfire brewing there as his chest heaved a bit, like he had just run a marathon. You tried to smile at him but became suddenly aware of the cuts littering your face and just how much they hurt. You winced instead, adrenaline fading slowly and a meltdown trying to take its place.
Sensing the impending doom, Stefan tossed the stolen body part aside and hastily wiped his hands on his jeans while he approached you, jaw tense. "Do you need to sit down? Do you need any blood?"
You were standing a breadth from each other now, and you were trying to blink back the tears building in your eyes. "No. No blood please." Your head shook with your reply, but so did your voice. The possibility of dying and coming back was terrifying.
Stefan's cleaner hand came up to rest gently against your cheek, pulling attention to the fact that your tears had begun falling. "I'm kind of tired."
His eyes flashed quickly and his other hand reached out to catch you as the black tunnel building at the corners of your vision finally closed.
-----
You woke in a bed that was not your own, but you recognized the sandalwood scent on the pillow beneath your head. This was Stefan's room - and then what had happened came barreling back in your memory.
You shot up with a slight wince at the pounding in your head and went to throw your legs over the bed but froze when you noticed a disheveled Stefan perched on the lounge chair across the room.
"Excited to be somewhere?" His question was laced with humor but his eyes were tinged dark, the sign of a restless man.
Your breath was shaky and you came to a full sit, hands wringing together in the echo of anxiety. "Stefan. Is everyone okay?"
He stood gracefully and took a seat next to you on the bed, close enough for your thighs to touch and you noticed that you weren't wearing leggings for the first time, but rather a pair of sleeping shorts. Noticing your slightly panicked look, he shook his head. "Elena changed you when we brought you home. Everyone is fine. I also informed them not to give you blood, because you didn't want it. So I've been sitting here, waiting for you to finally wake up and resisting the urge to gut all of those assholes relatives that I can find for doing this to you."
Your eyelids fluttered a bit, trying to make sense of what he was saying. When had Stefan become so earnest, so protective? When had we shifted from camaraderie to something deeper. "Thank you, for taking care of me."
"I always will, if you'll let me." His hand rubbed small circles in your palm, sensing the still simmering anxiety beneath the surface. "But don't tell anyone that, I don't need them thinking they can start asking me for things."
You snorted, rolling your eyes in that familiar pattern. Leave it to him to compliment and barb in the same sentence.
"So," He continued, finger trailing up to your elbow. "About dinner?"
You smiled, something real. "I guess we can see how it goes."
damon salvatore getting dragged by his gf to a taylor swift concert? <3
I AM LIVVINGGGGGGG FOR TIHS PROMPT
i love you
--
anything for you
damon salvatore x f!reader
summary: the eras tour would be your dream come true, and maybe even Damon's.
..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..
You woke with a start from your side of the bed, Damon's arm wrapped around you in a vice grip and your phone ringing off the hook somewhere across the room. You managed to shimmy out of his grip and patted his arm in apology when you noticed his eyes fluttering open.
Crossing the room and picking up your phone right as it stopped ringing, you noticed that you had ten missed calls from Caroline. Worried, you typed in your pass code to call her back but you didn't have to - because her face popped up on the screen again.
"Hello?" You denied the FaceTime and instead chose to use it as a call, hand running through your ragged bed head. "Is someone dead?"
"Turn on your camera right now. Turn it on, Y/N, I swear to God. I want to see your face when I tell you this." You didn't think you'd ever heard the blonde sound so excited, and that was definitely saying something.
You pulled the phone away from your face and groaned, tapping a few buttons until Caroline's screen appeared. But it wasn't her face, she was looking at her laptop. You tried to focus your eyes but were failing horribly.
"Do you believe it!?!"
"Caroline, I just woke up. I can't see that." You tried your best not to sound annoyed with your best friend.
Caroline's camera flipped, smile shining brightly. "That, my love, is an email I got this morning from Taylor Nation containing an early access code to Eras Tour tickets in Atlanta! They said it was for that Spotify challenge we did, so I'd bet you have one too."
She didn't need to say that because you had already pulled out your email app, refreshing it to see if there was a gift waiting there.
There was.
"Oh my god!" You jumped a bit and Caroline renewed her screeching over the phone, immediately jumping into outfit ideas.
"Fuck me." Damon's curse was barely audible from behind you.
..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..
You began preparing him from that day forward. You knew that he knew about Taylor Swift, especially since you played her all the time, but he didn't know enough. Not Eras Tour enough.
He was reluctant at best. Always a quip and a half away from you throwing your phone at his head.
"So you're saying that she vanished for years because she was so criticized and then made it her entire personality? Came out with an album about how misunderstood she was? Dramatic." The last word was sing-song, casually flipping a page in his magazine.
You stalked over to his place on the couch angrily, gripping his leg to uncross his ankles and sit at the edge of the couch, forcing him into a sitting position. "It's iconic, Damon. She's a literal superstar."
His smile was sardonic but his eyes only held love. "Whatever you say, Darling?"
..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..
You were practically vibrating in your hotel room, placed in front of the mirror and putting the last touches on what you believed to be the perfect outfit.
It was your version of the Midnights body suit, just a shade darker, and a bit more tassel. Your eyes looked up and caught Damon gazing at you from his position in the bed. You offered him a large smile, knowing he was definitely about to step out of his comfort zone. He'd been a good sport about the outfit though, and was wearing a black 'My Girlfriend's a Swiftie' shirt. It was adorable.
You turned to him and leaned down with a quick kiss. "Thank you for coming with me."
He pulled you back for a more drawn out one, and gave you his signature smirk. "Anything for you."
..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..
By the time that Taylor got to your favorite era, you were already on your third wind. Damon had been way more amiable about it than you thought he would be, swaying along to one side while you and Caroline were going absolutely feral, belting all the lyrics.
That was, until the surprise songs. She started strumming the first few lines of Timeless and you felt Damon stiffen next to you, jaw clenching a bit. You were over the moon, Timeless was one of your favorite songs. Little did you know it was Damon's too.
You swayed along to the beginning of the song, arm linked through Caroline's. But about halfway through, over the singing crowd, you heard the man next to you singing softly.
"I thought 'bout it as I started looking around at these precious things that time forgot."
You tried your best not to turn and stare at him, but he definitely noticed the grin spreading across your face. You started singing along too, other arm reaching out to grasp his hand.
summary: Yelena Belova was more than accepting of the penance she was going to have to endure in order to come out from under this dark cloud. Some days, it felt like it was being extracted in little ways, every day.
an introspective piece that takes place around the time of the end credit scene for Thunderbolts*; so spoilers, obvs.
Despite everything, she always believed in karma. Even if it should terrify her; the notion that the universe would right the most grievous of wrongs gave her some comfort as she committed those wrongs.
Karma had come for her in more ways than one, and every time that sharp sting was welcome. A reminder; that she had debts to be paid.
It had been happening so much more lately, though.
Yelena wasn't nearly as lonely as she had been; though the meddling of Valentina was less than welcome, she was happy with this makeshift group of reluctant friends. But even if you aren't sinking into that pit, the darkness is always waiting in the rafters.
Moments like this, hands tremoring slightly while she tries to put the lid back on the milk in the main kitchen. She was certain, just then, that she had smelled Natasha.
Yelena knew, of course, that her sister had spent a prolonged period here. One of the rooms had been hers, she had eaten at this counter and watched tv in that large lounging area. But it should be impossible; through years and battle and construction, that the cinnamon scent of her body spray would be lingering anywhere.
Realistically, Yelena knew that. But the shaking of her hands wouldn't abate, and she was made to remember that her and Natasha would only ever be ships in the night. Their contact infrequent and brief, but it meant everything.
Only one person left to experience those memories, though.
Sometimes she felt like it was a disservice to flinch away from those feelings of loss; who else was there, to remember her sister? To honor her memory? Just hordes of people who didn't really know who she was; and Yelena.
Karma took its lot in other ways, as to be expected. The happy shriek of a child on the bustling streets of the city below turns into a garbled cry in Yelena's mind, blood pouring from a mouth too young to even understand the word.
She would wonder, briefly, if her trip into the Void had loosened the broken bits of her. It gave her room to grow and heal, but she would have to watch all of those stifling memories shatter one by one and remember them in nauseating clarity.
The fridge door shut and Yelena almost jumped at Bob's sudden appearance. His face was cracked into a wide, familiar grin, but she could see the worry hidden in his eyes. He always seemed to know when she was teetering on the edge of something.
"Want to watch the new episode of Love Island with me? It just came out." Bob gestures widely to the living room, where Ava was already sprawled on one of the lounges.
She only had to think about it for a moment. "I would love to, Bob." She steps away from the fridge and links her arm with his. "These women always make the worst decisions, it's my favorite comedy."
This is what made it all worth it. A stained glass mosaic of beautiful moments and soul rendering ones. She wouldn't have it any other way.
