#bamon drabble

[backandimbamon]

Hai... I hope you are doing well... I've read most of ur damon fics and I LOVE THEM ❤️. could you please write a one shot fluffy maaaayyybbbeeeee smutty bamon. Please 🥹🥹... also do you have any bamon fic recs? I'm in desperate need of some.

im sorry this took so long :( also whoever reads this, please tag some bamon fics u love. i adore anything by the authors lapis love & swamy on ff. full story on my fanfiction profile but here’s a snippet xx happy bamon day!

Between the antiquated pages of Wuthering Heights, Bonnie Bennett hears the sound of rain. A steady sprinkling so lulling and mesmerizing and absolute that it almost frightens her to see that it is still May 10th, 1994.

When she peaks through the blinds the beaming sun is slowly starting to wane, sunset is soon, the same hazy orange, the same undying heat.

Here, there is no such thing as anything else but somehow she’s managed to trick herself with this growing longing for change. Everyday away from the real world is another day for her to forget what possibility feels like- she craves not only rain, but snow too, a cold, snowy winter, that makes her excited for summer all over again. In an obsessive way, the feeling of something new is always on her mind, she’s in desperate need of a surprise.

Bonnie sighs distantly. Once she makes it back home, (because somehow she always does), she vows to stand in the middle of every storm and drink the raindrops as they come. Just to remember. Just to never forget.

The sound of rain. Laughter bubbles up in her throat at the silly little thought, she may very well be losing her mind, but it’s fine. Everything’s fine. She returns to the novel with hopes that she’ll be distracted from how fine everything is, trapped in the story of a boarding house and lost love and ghosts.

But the boarding house makes her think of home and the lost love makes her think of home, and the ghosts, (especially the ghosts,) makes her think of home.

It’s a great story, evocative, she’s just too sensitive right now. Reading page after page where the plot thickens and the scenery changes is the one thing she can’t relate with, it makes her sore. Envious.

Bonnie nearly drops the book in agitation, flips a few pages forward and sees calligraphy here and there in random margins. Stefan’s.

Perhaps it’s his footnotes that prompt her olfactory hallucinations earlier- the smell of wet asphalt is not unlike that of dried ink on aged pages. Chemically natural. Pungent. If she closes her eyes, it does smell like a downpour.

Or a blizzard.

Or a skin scent; anatomy mixed with the faint smell of soap or salt or leather.

Naturally, she thinks of Damon.

Funny enough, he recommends this book to her one morning as she’s browsing through the home library. Bonnie grabs Wuthering Heights by accident, she has already studied it in high school and is quick to put the novel back in its alphabetical place, only Damon suggests that she read it a second time. At her hesitance, he insists. She’s never pegged him to be an avid reader.

“It won’t be the same story you read for literature,” Damon Salvatore, who’d more or less die than reveal that he thinks, is sharing story suggestions. The same Damon who prefers to lead with looks then blindside with depth later, sometimes never. But here in their prison world, he has nowhere to run and she has nothing better to do than observe. She’s beginning to know him better than Caroline; he’s starting to gain on her friendship with Elena.

“I’ll take your word for it.” This prison has also made her weary to fight back every now and then. She takes his recommendation without question and she wishes she gives him more resistance because it isn’t like she trusts him or something.

“Oh Bon, Bon?”

One thought of him and now he’s calling, she doesn’t miss the irony.

“Damon,” she calls back, feigning aggravation “So much for peace and quiet.” Her actions speak louder than words, though, already, she’s bookmarking her page, leaving the study for the bar where two glasses of bourbon await him to her one.

This has become a sacred space for her, her little hideaway. Whisky is as much a friend as Damon at times. To have both spoils her.

“There you are.” He’s wearing his signature lazy smile. “I knew the only way to get your nose out of that novel was to make myself useful.”

“And that you did.” Quickly she taps her glass against his outstretched one, the gentle clink relieves her from fixating on what it is that secretly makes her feel enthused about being in Damon’s company. “I must admit, you weren’t wrong about rereading,” she says, back to using that poor book to distract herself from her own inner wonderings.

He hums a sound of approval. Without much thought, Damon drapes his arm around her barstool, it’s a habit for him to make her personal space his own, so much so, she’s starting to smell leathery and spicy and woody too. “When am I ever?”

“What, wrong?” She nearly guffaws before adding quickly, “It’s a very long list. Shall I drop the scroll?”

“Hilarious.” Damon says facetiously, downing his first glass. His hand is already cupping the next tumbler. “You wanna talk about yesterday?” He watches her then, no hint of mirth in his expression, in as little words, he’s worried about her. Damon Salvatore is worried about her. It’s absurd the way he cares now; honest concern is blatant in his eyes. This place is an alternate reality that molds and twists and reshapes the world she once knew to outlandish proportions.

“I don’t know,” she begins, taken aback by his seriousness. Maybe a little startled by his beauty, too.

He’s so easy to look at and difficult to hold eye contact with at the same time but she forces herself to face the flame just this once.

Bonnie settles on, “What about it?” Guiltily.

Yesterday is a blur, she remembers finding her sloth in warm sheets and the early morning sunlight filtering through them, she has no idea what time it is, only knows that when he wakes her up she asks for five minutes which turns into five hours and before she realizes it, it’s well beyond midnight. Damon comes back in to check on her and she tells him nothing even mattress instead of matters and can’t stop laughing and laughing and laughing…

Again, she is most likely losing her mind because she has to be insane in order for her entrapment to make sense.

“First you lose track of the days we’ve spent here, no dice on your magic after all this time, now you’re sleeping until night and laughing like a lunatic because apparently, nothing even mattress.” Lightly he taps her shoulder as if he’s doing a quality check. “My Bonnie is malfunctioning.”

He’s joking but it’s the words themselves and the ideology behind them that’s cruel. Immediately she takes offense, the image of a sacrificial lamb flashing in her mind. “God forbid I stop behaving in my normal, resourceful manner.” She says tightly.

Damon brushes her shoulder with his thumb while he speaks, a small and innocent gesture that’s coaxing nonetheless, sympathy in his voice. “You know I didn’t mean it like that, Bon,”

“No.” She says to his touch, disregarding the fluttery feeling inside of her in order to focus on indignation. Bonnie shifts away from him. “You did mean it like that and while it’s completely unfair, I’m not even surprised. Leave it to you to have expectations of me in a literal hellhole.”

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[fanaticloser]

Do you ever search up a trope and you look through the fics and read all the summaries and it looks like no one understands what that trope actually means.

[dreamsaslightasfeathers]

PRISON WORLD REVELRIES

Every day is a long time with anyone, but it seems almost bearable with these two. Lately, I have been thinking a lot about the prison world.

I've been plotting something as fluffy and sweet as the pancakes Damon makes for Bonnie.

[chenfordswopez]

Bamon (ask game)

Bonnie sighed against Damon, feeling safe.

[everything-y-nothing]

masterpost

below the cut is a catalog of the moodboards i've created. they're primarily kanthony and bamon related, and inspired by my favorite fics. list of fic recs is also included. i own nothing, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera

+ kathony (bridgerton)

AU AESTHETICS

Charlotte Bridgerton faceclaim (drabble) Charlotte Bridgerton faceclaim (source) Modern-day Kate Sharma Bridgerton | boy mum (drabble) Modern-day Kate Sharma Bridgerton | mama + minis (drabble)

FF MOODBOARDS

june, after dark i can't find the words, so i guess it's time immalleable beings something good

NEWTONSHEFFIELD you might have some bruises (and a few scars) Like a Hurricane Woman Taken by the Wind Nights Like This In Bloom (i feel) a lavender haze creeping up on me (i feel) a lavender haze creeping up on me (manip) Nothing Good Starts Across the Molly-verse: Edwina + Josie (non-kanthony) Mile High Hard Time Late Night (manip) blushing all the way home

FIC RECS (moodboard tbd 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Indecent Proposal Missing Connections Short and Sweet (oneshot series) Crickets at Midnight (oneshot) Wedlock hunt you, unmake you I Never Got Used to Watching Horses Die potential, probable, impossible

+ bamon (tvd)

AU AESTHETICS

Storm + Gambit (X-men AU) Captain Salvatore + Sea Witch (sailor/mermaid au)

FF MOODBOARDS

a cup of coffee Back to You: Chapter 3, Pretence Bitter Dispositions

DARWINQUARK six mornings after | damon + stefan six mornings after | bonnie + caroline six mornings after | kai parker

SARCASTICFINA You Know I Will Adore You (‘Til Eternity) If You Love Me (Don't Let Go), Epilogue Part II

PAINTEDWITHWORDS Dormiente Protagonista (no harm ever came from reading a book)

FIC RECS (moodboard tbd 🤷🏻‍♀️)

less awake (untitled drabble) aka "little blondie bennett" Until the End of Time i wanna live with you (even when we're ghosts)

+ bonnie bennett (tvd)

BBHC Week 2021, Day 6: Hair (drabble) BBHC Week 2021, Day 4: Tattoos (drabble) BBWeek 2021, Bonnie moves to Berkeley (ficlet)

[chenfordswopez]

Ty for tagging me @userbettycooper

last song: idk the title haha

currently watching: that 70s show, that 90s show, and heartstopper

three ships: bamon, dair, formciotti

favorite color: pink

currently consuming: nothing atm

first ship: Mickey/minnie

relationship status: single

last movie: I don’t remember at the top of my head but most likely Barbie. I don’t count the ones I do for school.

currently working on: more gwikki drabbles

Tagging: @theonewithallthefixations @randomwriter23 @disneymbti @tht70sblog @einsteinsugly @fayesdiana and anyone else who wants to join uwu

tagged by @keensressler (ty bb <3) sorry if anyone else tagged me in this ugh

last song: the last time by tswift

currently watching: tvd season 2

three ships: damon/elena, bellamy/clarke, adam/cassie

favorite color: blue

currently consuming: soda

first ship: I had a couple lol brooke/lucas, pacey/joey, spike/buffy

relationship status: married for 8 years <3

last movie: mean girls

currently working on: trying to write a new song I haven't written one in ages!!

tagging (sorry for anyone who's done this already!!): @clubglee, @fayesdiana, @max-mitchell, @hydesjackiespuddinpop, @auroraphillip, @maya-matlin, @bakerolivia, @stonerbughead, @saw-x, @laylakeating, @nessa007 and anyone else who wants to do it <3

[perpetualimaginings]

Idiot, he scolds himself. Then again. Idiot. All these years, and it’s only dawned on him now? Sure, there was all the Elena stuff. Near death, half-death... and it wasn’t as if he was thinking about her in the breathing space between.

Liar. You always think about her.

‘Is there a reason you’re looking at me like that?’ She asks him, her cheek dimpling as her mouth fights the smile.

She knows, doesn’t she?

Damon tries to look beyond her face but it’s entirely distracting tonight - this whole damned realisation is distracting - and his gaze pings right back to her expectant one.

Fine, you win.

‘You er... you look beautiful, Bon.’

She laughs; he kisses her. It surprises them both... kinda (Damon’s not exactly impartial to impulsivity and he’s been an idiot for too long to let another moment pass not touching her).

They part and she pulls on the scrunchie holding her ponytail taught. Her bunny slippers push against his thigh as she wriggles down the couch, head propped on the pillows.

‘Press play, idiot.’

Damon doesn’t hear her: he’s thinking about kissing her again.

(Felt like writing a little Drabble! Requests are always welcome - my ask box is open ❤️ P.S. at first I was imagining Bonnie all dressed up at a party or something, but Damon realising on a simple movie night...that’s love)

[writingsoftheunderworld]

Mausoleum

Here's another one. Well, when inspiration hits, what's a woman to do but write. 😋

Industrial sounds of a too technological city, whirring and shuffling and the occasinal bops and grinds of metal hitting metal, scraping and echoing like a bang in a too big room. It was dark too, shades of white and grey matter barely glimpsed through the black scenary, lights only on the top most level, splattered in like an aftertought, like paint hitting a canvas, like blood from a bullet wound. One there, and one here and one further back, but not for 3 more flats, or one level below. And the lights were too difuse, too soft to pierce more than maybe a few inches around them. Still, he didn't mind. The dark was like molases, true enough, but he could deal with that, he got used to it.

He was walking below today, on the lowest part of the sidewalks, looking up at the level he usually stalked through. The Below was made up of far narrower corridors, with a much bigger car lane, not that many even used that anymore. But it was still asphalt and concrete and yellow traffic lines drawn in paint. Irregular, crooked. He could see where they drew the first line then began the next as there was a breakage, shifted slightly to the right, intertwined wrong. He didn't mind this either.

He walked a lot nowadays, his car long ago a wreak he still held onto like it was his arm, the only keepsake he had left of his only family. So he walked now, the long maze of corridors that used to be pavewalks, down to the corner, down further to the intersection and onwards out to the edge of the city.

The cemetary greeted him slowly, the upturned earth of an abandoned grave, until the groundskeep returned, the slow peppering of headstones and the occasional cross here and there, so much fewer nowadays. All graves were fewer nowadays. There was no need for them, there were other ways to bury someone, that is if they died at all. Midday now, the dark held on though, it held on forever these days. He didn't mind that too.

He paused. It was just up ahead, where her gravestone stood. He'd wanted a masoleum, she'd deserved something big, something to take up space, because she should take up space after all she'd done for this too dark, too winding world. She'd kept it spinning, kept it going for so long. But she'd fought back with all her might, and so did her children, later, when coffins were being chosen and gravestones and mausoleums were being picked. He knelt, head high, eyes skyward, a deep breath in before he looked at the etching. It was a date, so very many years ago, her birth, her end. It read friend and mother and saviour and the best of this whole wide universe. He lowered his head, eyes darted to the damp ground, to the flowers in his hand, her favourite this time. He'd finally gotten it right. His mind shifted, suddenly aware that his brother was burried mere feet away as well. His heart still ached for him, but he'd lived a long and happy life. His brother hadn't minded death, not like he did.

"Still as melodramatic as always, Damon?" Her voice rang through the silence of his part of the city, too far away for the noise to pierce through. His eyes remained fixed on the gravestone, the name smiling up to him. He smiled back. Bonnie Bennett.

"Well, don't you look wood witch chic, Bon Bon?" Bonnie smiled. "I still think a mausoleum would've been better, you'd at least have a bed, no one would be the wiser." He argued, standing up, flower still in hand. He gave them to her and she smiled softly.

"Finally remembered my favourite did you? And no, people were already shapening their pitchforks, a grave was better."

"Alright, but I still don't get why you won't join me in the city. No one even remembers who you were anymore, it's been a century. Why the woods?" He argued back, smile turning into grin. He'd missed her, her voice, her eyes, her face. She'd been away for too long this time, a month had been torture.

"Having second thoughts?" Her answering grin was wild like the woods woods she'd chosen as home, her tone as snarky as it has always been. He shook his head, "never", and took her hand. They dissappeard into the trees, hand in hand, a trail of footprints in the damp ground that vanished with a flourish of her hand, leaving behind the city, and the grave, and the remanants of the past they'd shared for so long, stepping into the future. He'd just turned 300 years old, she'd just stepped into her second century. Their lives finally entwined deep in the woods that'd kept her alive with it's magic for so long, and would do so for far longer still, together.

[pugetprincess]

an old bonnie/damon drabble written for the prompt:  ‘Last year at the 60s dance Damon asked Bonnie to dance and she turned him down, so he tries again at the Masquerade Party.’  

.

Mystic Falls always came out for a party.  

They were good distractions from the undercurrent of murder and mayhem that people tried to bury and hide.  And a masquerade was very fitting for a town that wore its own mask.

The Lockwood property was lavishly decorated, the grounds and mansion twinkled and spooked.  Everyone was there, lost in the sea of black tuxedoes and silky gowns.  Laughter echoed across the gardens and down the halls, drowning out the gossip and chatter.

Inside, Bonnie stood vigilant in the ballroom.  

It was easy to tell everyone apart.  The small butterfly masks, decorated in lace and sequins, didn’t work very well as a disguise.  But that wasn’t really the point, anyway.  She casually skirted around the dance floor, trying to blend in but keep an eye out for trouble.  Katherine was there, after all.

She was hoping to find Jeremy again.  She’d lost track of him somewhere between the punch bowl and restroom, and wondered if maybe he’d run into Tyler.

And if this party wasn’t a drag already…

“Leopard print is an interesting choice.”

There was no mistaking that sarcastic lilt.  With a tight set to her jaw, Bonnie braced herself and looked over her shoulder at Damon.

“Just leave me alone,” her tone slightly exasperated, “I’m really not in the mood-”

“Are you ever in the mood?”  His thin grin didn’t quite reach his eyes.  His tense gaze flickered away from her, over to where Katherine and Stefan were dancing.

“For you?  No.”  Bonnie looked them over too, noting the tense line of Stefan’s back.

“How about a dance?”

Her eyes narrowed, jumping to Damon’s.  “Could you concentrate, please?  You know, stay on point.”  She looked down at his black shirt and dark jeans.  “You didn’t even follow the dress code.  Don’t you think the chaperones will get suspicious?”

“Alaric’s got my back.  And besides,” he smirked, “It’s called compulsion, honey, and not everyone is immune to it.”

She straightened her shoulders, “Well, at least there are a few people in Mystic Falls who you can’t compel.”

He frowned, “It’s a good thing for you too.  You have no idea what I’d get you to do if I could.”  He stared down at her, his eyes hard and flashing.

Side-stepping that very unpleasant thought, Bonnie stood straight and narrowed her eyes on him with concentration.

Eyes widening, he hissed, “Don’t - ” just as pain began to bloom across his face and his hands came up to claw at his temples.  Genuine agony wrinkled across his forehead and down the sharp set of his jaw.

Just as his shoulders began to crumple, Bonnie suddenly relaxed and retracted the spell.  Slowly Damon straightened, arms curled at his sides.  He glared furiously at her.

“That, little witch,” he growled in her face, “is why we can never be friends.”

“It’s not the only reason, Damon.”  She returned his glare, feeling only a little guilty for the aneurism.

He scowled, eyes flicking up and down her with a threat.  Then he turned sharply away towards the dancers.

Hoping this little moment with Damon was over, Bonnie started moving away and looked back over the sea of masks, trying to spot Stefan and Katherine again.  She had no clue where Caroline disappeared to and she should probably really figure out where Jeremy went…

“You know, all this animosity,” Damon spoke up, his eyes staying on the dancers but his hand gesturing between her and him, “It could make for some very interesting late night fun.”

She spun around just as he crossed his arms tightly, biting his lip and trying to hide a smirk.

“What?” Her face screwed up, “Ew.  That’s disgusting, Damon.”

“Disgusting?” He took in her appalled expression, knitting his brows together.  He was truly offended.  “Excuse me?  Do you know how many girls in this town have slept with me?  And they loved it.”

“Yeah right.  Caroline hates you.”

“Oh, but the others don’t.  They let me stay over whenever I want.”  Damon faced her, his condescending smile staring her down.

“Sure, because you compel them,” Bonnie frowned, disapproval cutting across her face.

“No.  It’s because they really like it when I stay over,” he licked his lips, “And you would too.”

“Have you been drinking or something?  Because your hold on reality is totally gone.”  She raised her eyebrows.  “Remember me?  Girl who hates you?”

The muscles in his throat ticked and Damon made a show of rolling his eyes.  “Whatever, Judgy.  So –” a sincerely fake smile etched up along his face, making him look slightly maniacal, “Wanna dance?”

“NO.”  Bonnie looked him over suspiciously.    

Damon’s poker smile melted down into a very real and annoyed frown.  “Come on, Bonnie.  Can’t we be friends?”

Bonnie stopped and stared blankly up at him.  He had sincerely misunderstood something at some point.  

“Listen, just because I helped you out with Mason Lockwood – it doesn’t mean I’m on your side or that I excuse all the terrible things you’ve done to this town,” she stared unflinchingly into his scowling face, “What I said before still stands.  If you kill a single innocent person, I’m taking you down.”

Damon’s face twisted furiously and his lips clenched together.  Just as he opened his mouth to reply, someone cleared their throat behind them.

“Damon.”

“What?” Damon barked, rounding on Stefan.  He was standing right next to them with his ‘serious face’.  Katherine stood at his side, her red lips twisted in a smile and her black eyes twinkling behind her mask.

“How interesting,” she looked snidely between Bonnie and Damon.

Bonnie blanched and Damon narrowed his eyes on the vampire, “Hello, Katherine.”

She smiled gleefully up at him, delighted at their discomfort.  Her eyes darted to Bonnie.

“Hi, Bonnie.  How’s the Harry Potter act coming?” 

Bonnie only frowned in response and Katherine smirked, twirling towards Stefan again.  With one arm angled arrogantly on her hip, her other hand waited impatiently in the air, “Shall we?”

Stefan offered her his arm with a stony expression, sending a pointed look at Damon as he guided Katherine away.

Bonnie exhaled, annoyed and embarrassed.  Damon stood still, glowering at Katherine’s back.  Bonnie finally walked away.

[lady-salvatore]

By the Light of Dying Flames

Pairing: Bonnie Bennett x Damon Salvatore

Desc.: Set in the Prison World.

Notes: Bamon fluff,,,,, that is all.

Damon always thought that love was supposed to be an all-consuming fire.

He’d loved Katherine until it destroyed him, and he loved Elena until he destroyed everything he touched.

Every love Damon ever had— even the love for his family and friends— had ended in disaster, with Damon consuming everything.

He lamented this to Bonnie, bourbon in hand and his head lying on the back of the couch.

“Love is like that,” Damon finished. “It takes, and it takes, and it takes. Just like fire.”

Bonnie pursed her lips and snatched the bourbon out of his hand. “You’re drunk.”

He turned his head to look at her. “But I’m right.”

Bonnie shook her head. “No, you’re not. Love isn’t like that at all.”

Damon scoffed. “I’m about a hundred and fifty years older than you, and you think you know more than me?”

“Yes,” Bonnie said plainly. “Love isn’t about taking. Love isn’t consuming. It’s different. Softer.”

Damon thought about that.

Love.

Maybe, just maybe, love wasn’t meant to consume you. Maybe it was meant to grow on you softly.

Maybe love was... sitting by the fire and drinking together. And talking.

Maybe love was grocery shopping together everyday, trying on all the sunglasses and making faces at each other.

Maybe love was making pancakes every morning for the girl you’re stuck in a lonely prison with.

Maybe love... was this.

She looked down at the glass in her hand. “Maybe I’m the drunk one.”

“No, Bon Bon,” Damon said quietly. “I think you’re onto something.”

Bonnie smiled at him. That was all it took for him to realize.

Oh. Oh. He was in love, in a way he’d never thought.

Love wasn’t fire. Love wasn’t raging and hurting.

Love was what comes after— staying by the fire with someone, even though the fire was dying and both of you were tired.

Damon moved a little closer to Bonnie. She moved a little closer to him.

“Fire,” Bonnie whispered, watching the last of the embers burn in the fireplace.

Damon cocked his head. “No, it’s not like that at all.”

[finnicks]

( drabble ) shotgun shuts his cakehole

shotgun shuts his cakehole the vampire diaries | bonnie/damon 100, pg. Damon needs to stop touching her radio.

[backandimbamon]

inspired by @klonnieshippersclub 💋💋

“Bonnie Mikaelson.” Damon has the urge to do something with his hands. They were occupied before, too busy warming his glass of dark red O-positive and bourbon cocktail but he’s lost his appetite. “That doesn’t even sound right.”

“I think it does,” Elena’s viewing, no admiring Bonnie’s fancy wedding invitation on the weighted paper specifically destined for special occasions. There’s a picture of witchy and her fiancé together, so possessed by one another that their eyes are on each other instead of breaking the fourth wall and smiling at the camera.

Dreadful.

The Niklaus Mikaelson is staring at Bonnie like nothing else matters and her face is a reflection of his. It’s unsettling; two of the most guarded individuals he’s encountered in his lifetime have dropped every defense with their wide, honest smiles and knowing gazes.

Is this a practical joke, Damon wants to ask but Elena is here- if he even gives life to the words, there is a strong possibility that she will deny the absurdity of this unfortunate event, blindly in favor of whatever decision Bonnie makes even when it’s the wrong one.

For now, he chooses silence. On the inside, he is shouting.

Damon sidles up next to his girlfriend, not because he’s feeling romantic, but because he must investigate this picture. He’s already stared for an indefinite amount of time, yet the urge to pick apart and criticize hasn’t left. It’s stronger than ever.

The picture is intimate, as if they are laughing at some joke no one else hears, or speaking telepathically the way couples do. They’re both saying the same thing: I love you.

And Damon thinks it’s deplorable.

Still, there’s a tug inside of him because he could’ve sworn she looked at him just like that, after he’d said something completely inappropriate, and Bonnie, she doesn’t want to laugh, yet he always seems to strangle the sound out of her without much effort on his part.

And sure, they might’ve been living the same day eternally and, yes they might’ve been the last two people on Earth, (or so they thought,) but it still counts for something… right?

“Right about what?” Elena’s brown eyes are on him, a small glimmer of concern.

He’s beside himself so much so that he’s talking without his own permission. This event to bear witness to, this marriage might just be the thing that makes him… Insane, probably.

“She looks so happy,” Elena sighs in content, staring at the Save the Date affectionately. “I can’t help but feel the same way. Her smile is infectious, isn’t it?”

He’s not even hearing her.

The date of the wedding is a year from now, give or take a few days, on Sunday, May 5th.

Why they would choose a destination such as hot, stinky, swampy, bad roads, boisterous streets Louisiana, is beyond him- they’ll have to plan in advance to attend. He’s been looking so intently that Damon can recite the RSVP number in reverse.

The colors for the wedding are complicated and impractical, but Klaus, Bonnie’s soon-to-be-husband knows about color theory…apparently when he isn’t being a terrorist, or getting on one knee for Bennett witches after a measly eight months of dating, he dabbles in art.

Yeah, well, so did Hitler.

“What alternate universe are we in?” He speaks again, unable to hold his peace. “I mean, how in the hell does someone like him get to marry Bonnie? It’s Klaus.” He shrugs. And then he snorts, rolls his eyes to the ceiling, “That’s like me proposing to her.”

“Is it?” Elena is using her therapist voice, a tone she’s returning to more often than not when Damon mentions anything concerning their best friend. Before, she used this tone of voice sparingly, mostly to help comprehend the shift in their relationship dynamic when Bonnie returned from the prison world, but now, it’s all he hears.

Damon shrugs again, going out on a limb to say, “Maybe it’s worse.”

“Or maybe you’re just bias. You know, a lot of people didn’t understand how we worked either, once upon a time.” She lifts the invitation, her index finger extended. “But these two obviously adore each other. Klaus accepts nothing less than her being up under him at all times, and Bonnie is more than happy there. She barely comes out for drinks anymore.” Elena giggles at what she’s just remembered. “Now that I think of it, the last time I called her, I was interrupting. Apparently they were very…busy.”

“Busy?” He shudders. (It isn’t jealousy that runs down his spine.)

Her brown eyes are on him again, gentle, imploring as if she’s reminding herself she’s not chatting with Caroline. “I know you’re super protective over Bonnie, I get it, me too, but Klaus is perfect for her. She probably hasn’t been this happy since…since….” at first Elena thinks, then it turns into a full on falter and he realizes she’s about to say since before the Salvatores came into town and ruined her bubbly little Sabrina-the-teenaged-witch life.

Elena abandons the sentence altogether.

Damon clenches his jaw. His mind is on the wedding invitation again, a wiry impulse to do everything he’s capable of to prevent such an on occurrence, for fear that bearing witness to it might unleash an ancient curse.

Something like indignation moves through him because yes, he looks closer with squinted eyes, a year ago, he was on the receiving end of Bonnie’s bleeding heart stare.

He wonders how could he have been dense enough to not notice that she was whispering her love without moving her mouth for so long.

He wonders why it’s so clear now that she isn’t looking at him.

“Just look at them,” Elena gushes, she’s been sold since the script typography, “We have to find a frame. ”

(more here)

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Bamon | Bonnie Bennett x Damon Salvatore (The Vampire Diaries)

Requested by anonymous

"You know, for someone who says she hates pancakes, you're stealing an awful lot of them off my plate."

Damon raises an eyebrow at Bonnie pointedly as she momentarily stops chewing the bite she just took out of her fifth one.

She shrugs, slow and innocent in the most guilty way. "They have chocolate chips. And you didn't do a weird vampire face on them for once."

"So, when you said you don't like pancakes, you were totally lying."

Bonnie swallows, scoffs, rolling her eyes.

"No. I just don't like blueberries in my pancakes, or to have dumb little smiley faces with fangs on them. I already see one of those every day."

"Ignoring." Damon points a finger at the plate of now two pancakes in his lap with feigned confusion. "But you like chocolate chip hearts? You know how easy that would have been to just... I don't know, tell me that?"

Bonnie shrugs again, finishing off the piece in her hand. "More fun this way."

Damon just stares at her, narrowing his eyes. It lasts all of three seconds as she swipes another off of his plate, taking a sip of her coffee, her own eyes fixed on the TV. He smiles to himself and just takes the last one, focusing back on the show they're watching.

[dreamsaslightasfeathers]

Are you ready for something sweet?

Ever experienced an intense craving for something you know you shouldn't have? An unbearable urge to indulge in something too sweet? You might understand what Damon and Bonnie are experiencing in my latest project, Pancakes are Promises.

Indulge in a collection of 100-word drabbles filled with such heartwarming fluff and gut-wrenching angst that they might just rot your teeth.

The first drabble will be released on Friday, September 6th. I hope you enjoy pancakes as much as I do!

It will be posted to fanfiction.net under Pancakes are Promises and AO3 if available.

[chenfordswopez]

Just posted another! Didn't really add that many edits because I mostly like the way it is rn. Anyways, enjoy!!! ilyasm <3333

[scorpio-karma]

Bk 2

A/N: Yeah, I know this is beyond late and I still have more to go, but I hope it was worth it. Enjoy.

2. "Stay here tonight."

“Stay here tonight.” he whispered as she was picking up her clothes.

"You know I can't Kai."

"Just this once."

"You can't keep doing this to me. You know I have to get back to them."

"Leave him."

"You know it's more complicated than that. We have a daughter together."

"And you think it's better for her if you stay with him in an unhappy marriage?"

"No. I think it's more complicated than that. I can't just send her life into an upheaval."

"If it keeps going like this it's going to happen anyway."

"I know," she whispered walking out the door.

She was waiting in the dining room when he got home. It was well after midnight, but that didn't surprise her. Damon had a habit of "staying late" at work.

"What's the point of sneaking in if we both know where you were."

"Jesue, Bonnie!" he shouted startled.

"Shh," she demanded. "Violet's asleep."

"Why aren't you?"

"Because we need to talk."

"About..."

"Don't play dumb. I've been doing it far too long and I deserve some answers now."

"What do you want to know?"

"Why do you keep coming back? Why do you come back just to hurt me? Are you too cowardly to end it or do you just get some sick satisfaction out of humiliating me?"

"You know that's not why. I love you more than anyone on the planet. Those women they mean nothing to me," he pleaded. He tried to brush her hair away from her face but she flinched away.

"Then why risk it? Why risk losing me over some floozy?"

"I don't know why I'm like this? I just ruin everything I touch."

She held in the rage inside her that wanted to slap him. Typical Damon, it's never his fault. Although she knew that when they got married, she just hoped he'd grow out of it. They were teenagers after all, they were supposed to grow up. It seemed only she did and got stuck raising two babies instead of the one she signed up for.

"Sign this," she said coldly shoving papers toward him.

"What are these?"

"Divorce papers. I want a divorce."

"You don't have to do this! I promise I'll do better."

"It doesn't matter. What's done is done, and I don't love you anymore. If you want to get better do it for yourself, but not for me because I'm moving on."

"I can't lose you," he pleaded.

"You already have."

"Stay here tonight," he whispered before kissing her jaw.

"I am," she said smiling.

"Wait, really?" Kai held back his excitement not knowing if what she was saying was real.

"Yes, really." She had never seen a grown man more excited at her declaration of two words. She wondered how much more of that she could get in the future.