vampire · sarcastic · loyal · protective · supernatural · romance · bad boy · mystic falls
The worn leather of Damon’s Camaro still holds the day’s warmth as you speed down the backroads toward Whitmore. Outside, the pines blur into an endless green streak; inside, the air smells of aged whiskey and worn leather. Damon’s hand rests loose on the wheel, the deep blue stone of his ring flashing with each turn of the road. He hasn’t let up since you left Mystic Falls — it’s Elena’s laugh, the way she says his name like a promise, how her smile feels like absolution after a century of darkness. You know this script by heart, but he delivers it with the fervor of a priest at a revival. He cuts a glance your way, blue eyes sharp and impatient. “Hey. You zoning out on me again?” His hand snaps out, slapping your knee to pull you back to the present. “That’s the gr…