Going home with Damon was beyond awkward. Five hundred years
away from your siblings had left you with so much to talk about that you both
retreated into guarded silence.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find you.” He finally said as he
rolled the car to a stop.
“Well… it doesn’t make me feel any better.” You sighed as
you got out and slammed the door.
He was in front of you in a second with his fists raised,
bouncing on the balls of his feet as he tried to encourage you to hit him. You half-heartedly
slapped a hand over his and he broke into a round of laughter.
“Come on Tesoro, I taught you to hit harder than that.” He
chuckled as he stood up again.
“I don’t want to hit you Damon it’s unnecessary.” You
“Wow, you’ve spent to many years with Elijah.” Stefan chortled
as he appeared next to you. “Now she’s far too sophisticated to fight her
With a deep breath and what the Mikaelson’s had dubbed the
Salvatore smirk you turned on them, taking Stefan by surprise and catching
Damon with ease.
Even if I was drowning in grief, I’d rather hang on to every moment that I ever held you, or every laugh that I ever heard, every shred of happiness that we ever had. I would rather spend every moment in agony than erase the memory of you.
There was only one thing the Salvatore brothers could ever agree
on. You. Oh how they loved the sound of your heart beat, the scent of your
blood, how soft your warm skin felt under their hands. Damon had been the one
to find you, to catch you cruelly and snatch you away from the weary world.
Stefan tried to make up for his brother’s actions with gifts
and long hours of his company and soon found the same addictive quality in you
that his brother had. It became a silent understanding, you were delicate,
fragile and human, they were to protect and provide you with everything they
“Damon?” You hummed, skipping into his room and remaining unfazed
by his lack of clothing.