IN WHICH I ATTEMPT TO DO THINGS

[woobloo]

Or, a tale in which I fail at fandom.

I haven't written anything in monthssssssssssss and I wish to remedy that. So if anyone wants ANYTHING- meta, fic, whatever- prompt it and I will write it.

Super broad, super specific, whatever. DO ITTTTTT PLEASE.

Comments

[woobloo]

Damon stands in the middle of the room, surveying the curtains.

"What are you doing?"

"Do you think blue? Or green?"

"You're getting rid of the drapes?"

(Elena runs into the sun because this is how she has power, lighting her body on fire.)

He looks back at her (he hasn't looked at her until now.) "They're stuffy. Hard to clean." There is a miniscule, almost indetectable pause. "Don't you hate them?" he asks, a frown existing uncomfortably with the smirk on his face.

(This is perhaps as close as they can come to an apology, as they loudly declare their lack of regret. It's dangerous, unnecessary. There is too much to apologize for, too much that cannot be undone. That isn't the point.)

She looks at him for as long as she can, then walks up to him, kisses him, shoves him roughly onto the rug as she rips off his shirt. "I like them," she mutters, as she bites his lip.

There is a pause where Damon looks at her, and that is all (that is enough, really) and then she kisses him again, rough, hard. He brings his face down, kissing her chest, and she lets him, whispers, "further down," and he brushes his lips down her stomach as he slides off her pants. She helps him do it, her hands on his, meets his eyes when he looks up at her.

He eats her out like there is no tomorrow, tongue fervently sliding in and out, up and down. She moans and gasps and whispers "now" into the stillness, feels the bristles of the Persian rug beneath her back as she feels him on her clit, once, twice, thrice.

She comes quick and hard.

Damon looks at her again, but this time, she does not open her eyes. She lies on the carpet and murmurs, "we should keep the curtains."

She sits up then, pushes him back onto the carpet. "I can do this now," she says, changing the subject (not really, of course. There is no subject to change, not with them.) and she slides her hand into his pants.

It takes a ridiculously short time to get him off.

[badboy_fangirl]

I'M SO SORRY IT'S TAKEN ME SO LONG TO GET BACK TO THIS. (Busy traveling, but am now holed up in a hotel room alone trying to catch up on fangirl thingies...)

So, this fic.

Um, yikes.

Who would ever dream of curtains as a metaphor? Oh, that's right, YOU. Never me, I can tell you. But that's why I love this, because I can write what I write all day long and it will never be like THIS. And this is painful and terrible, and yet joyful and hopeful too, which is Damon and Elena all the way around. Ugh, all the feels.

He eats her out like there is no tomorrow, tongue fervently sliding in and out, up and down. She moans and gasps and whispers "now" into the stillness, feels the bristles of the Persian rug beneath her back as she feels him on her clit, once, twice, thrice.
And then Damon apologizes by giving head, which is, you know, a fan favorite.

Thank you for this!