Heyya. Okay. For starters:
I'm a total Vampire Diaries fan. If Bamon were a drug, I'd do it. I mean, c'mon, how can you NOT love them? It's not pos-si-ble.
Have you guys read After Hours? It's by LJ Smith, and it's a kind of BonnieDamon. I would like it a hell of a lot better if LJ Smith hadn't been picking on Bonnie so much. All that 'oooh' crap was really down-right mean. Just saying, the writing was great until Damon's entrance. Still love LJ though!
This is my first attempt at writing the vampire and the witch, so please (puppy dog face) go easy on me?
Review and tell me what you think! If I should re-write or improve or whichever... I would really appreciate it. Thanks!
Okay, so, thanks for clicking, and hope you guys like reading!
Title: Fire Trees
Rating: T (or at least I think it's T...you decide.)
Summary: 'What are you doing under there, little bird?'
Pairing: DamonXBonnie, Bamon
Warning: Slight (or major, depending on how you look at it) Damon OOC plus some rants.
He had always been partial to the color red.
It was the color of blood—which, in some sense, was the essence of a vampire, of which without, he could not continue existing.
The sensation and the taste of warm blood flowing into your throat and setting your senses on fire. The thrill, the satisfaction, the sheer power blood gave—Damon's thirst for it was insatiable.
He mulled over this, as he walked, picking over the color and its aspects.
Red—the color of the sun as it sank. He anticipated the moment when the sun would wane from yellow, to orange and finally to faint red, signaling it's exit and the much, much awaited dominance of the night (and subsequently, him).
Darkness was Damon's turf, where he felt most comfortable, and he reveled in it. Morning was for losers.
Red was the color of Bonnie's hair and—why was he bringing that up?
Damon cursed, in spite of himself, feeling a familiar pang in his chest. It had evolved from an inconsistent twinge to a full-blown pain that sprouted whenever he heard, or thought Bonnie's name.
Scowling at himself, he tried to rid his mind of swirling images of wide, wounded chocolate-brown eyes and secret, sweet smiles, and her hair the color of—
Red.
It was the color of fire trees, like the one standing right in front of him.
Damon frowned, glad for the distraction, he wanted to draw it out as long as he could.
He frowned further, wondering when, and how, and why the hell there was one in the middle of Fell's Church's forest. He didn't ask himself why it was so important to him, and just went along. Thinking about nonsensical things was better than thinking about things that made sense but weren't supposed to.
Usually, the trees here were hell-bent and bordering on nondescript and boring (Fell's Church was sadly deprived of interesting things if you didn't count Elena and the ley lines of power, Damon, oh, and let's not forget the constant monsters dropping in for snacks).
Damon would know. He spent an unusual amount of time here in the freaking woodland and its' canvass of grey and green and brown were about as interesting to him as Stefan's diet—nothing had ever stood out before.
If required, he was pretty sure he could name all the kinds of trees that thrived in this part of town—oaks, pines, and oh, who the hell cared, he wasn't a freaking hippie, trees didn't interest him.
But the fire tree standing in front of him did. It was hugely magnificent, for a tree—tall, and big, the trunk vastly stout, and the branches spreading out in all directions, harboring such tantalizingly bright red blooms that contrasted sharply with the atmosphere that Damon wondered how he could have missed it before.
He wasn't a tree-hugger, but he could appreciate the striking beauty of this particular tree, as well as something else.
Damon's Power enabled him to sense auras strongly, stronger than Stefan could.
He thought his Power was limited to humans and animals, but apparently, it extended to trees too. Huh. Who knew?
The fire tree's aura was at the back of his mind, and it nagged at his skin persistently, until he was forced to analyze it and see what it was.
It was the soft, burning glow of a fire and it danced; sometimes going up, sometimes settling down and almost going off. It was unusual, to say the least, but Damon felt incredible Power from whomever was the source (he still didn't believe it was the tree).
The aura emanated waves of fierce joy and determination, and Damon had no idea how he perceived all of that from a tree. Trees didn't have feelings. Right?
Having succeeded in distracting himself from thinking about such things as a particular redhead, Damon cast his eyes sharply about, looking for something to play with.
Damon walked to the massive trunk of the tree, and leaned against it, feeling relaxed. Everything was quiet, except for the occasional snap of a twig and a thump of a heartbeat, as a fox chased its' prey.
He was bored to death. Or not-death. Whatever.
He found himself absently staring at the red hue of the exquisite blooms, and lazily, he remembered seeing that exact sameshade in Stefan's apartment somewhere.
His curiosity was piqued, and, in spite of himself, he carelessly went through his mind, trying to figure out where he'd first seen that bright, provoking, beautiful red.
It was at that moment that his hunter's instincts then picked up a heartbeat, but he couldn't figure out whether it was a human's or a rabbit's. It fluttered and flickered very fast, and it seemed to be coming from somewhere a few feet from the other side of the tree he was leaning on. The heartbeat was too light to be a human's.
Damon decided it was an animal, probably a rabbit in its burrow, and he didn't bother going to look at it.
He was just starting to get bored, when a strong wind blew, littering red petals onto the ground.
And—more were falling. On his hair, on his jacket, even on his boots.
This is why I do not like trees. They shed. Like animals. Which is why I do not like animals either.
Annoyed, Damon reached over to brush them off, and it was when his fingers made contact with the sleek smoothness of the petals that he remembered where he'd seen that exact same shade of red before.
And he didn't like it one bit. This was a particular part of his life he wanted to ignore and push away, or just eat, because affecting him like she had was unforgivable and impossible.
The little witch—Bonnie. There he went again, bringing up her name. There it went again, that same aching feeling in his chest.
He refused to acknowledge it, and shoved it down, scowling to himself, blue eyes flashing. Since when, pray tell, had he been so fucking weak?
He remembered the scenario in Stefan's bathroom, while he hugged his bedraggled little bird to him (well, she'd been his bird during those few moments), the feel and color of her hair. Bright red, a little damp from being soaked in the bathtub, but still soft and smooth, and sweet-smelling—
Damon cursed, and shook all the petals away with one violent shrug. He avoided looking up at the familiarity of the red flowers and instead, glared at the trunk. Unfortunately, the trunk was a shade tad too close to chocolate for his liking.
Damon knew a pair of chocolate-brown eyes that had stared at him often enough, often wide and slightly scared, slightly in awe, and heart-meltingly sincere. He'd taken all those stares at first, in satisfaction and smugness.
He had known those pair of eyes to look at him with fear and slitted annoyance, when he'd been in the mood to act like an ass. He'd seen those eyes stare at him with knowledge and awe, and acceptance—the night Stefan had almost died by that raincoat- wearing dickhead. He'd seen those eyes glance quickly at him and then look away, a small secret smile playing on those pretty lips.
And he'd wanted them to—
No.
He wanted Elena and no one more. Right? Besides; it was all in the package deal: he'd get the girl he'd been lusting after, and Stefan would be the one experiencing lifelong pain andhe'd probably commit suicide. It was a win-win situation for Damon. Yay.
And he wasn't just going to let someone as insignificant as Bonnie to ruin his plans, no way.
Although, really, insignificant was something Bonnie wasn't. And he wasn't saying that because he felt something for the girl—pssh. Pfft. Pssh.
Fine, there was a time when he'd been rather attracted to small, red-haired, powerful Bonnie, but the feeling had been brief—and it was all gone now.
He'd saved her and felt something for her—for her wide eyes, for her voice, for the way she felt against him—but it was all gone now.
He had only told Shinichi to spare her because—well, the little witch was special and it would be a pity to waste Power as she had—for she had it, no question, she just didn't know how to channel it yet.
He'd been largely annoyed with Mutt and for highly justifiable reasons too—for, really, the boy couldn't keep his emotions to himself, Damon could read him as easily as breathing.
Mutt loved Elena still, but it was slowly waning to brotherly affection. The thoughts he had of Bonnie, on the other hand, were verging on porn, and that Damon did not approve of. He didn't want his little bird to be mentally defiled by some unworthy human such as, God, of all people, Mutt—
Wait, did he just call her his little bird?
Stay on track, Damon. Don't lost sight of the Elena goal. Don't.
But there was no stopping, and Damon had to finish his mind monologue.
He'd fantasized about Bonnie too, of course. He'd wanted her, for a while, just for play. If she hadn't been a witch, he'd have compelled her already. There was enough beauty and sensuality and innocence in her that would attract any male anything, and Damon had seen that.
She didn't have golden-haired Elena's striking beauty or her radiance, or cool Meredith's elegance and composure: Bonnie was on a world on her own. Red hair, and brown eyes and those lips, and that skin, and that soft body.
At once, the gate opened, and it all came rushing out in one quick flow. How Damon wanted her, how he didn't get her because the odds were always stacked against him.
He knew why he wanted her, of course. A simple look at her would answer all questions. Matt and Tyler had wanted her. Half the guys in town wanted her. There was something about her childish innocence, and a pureness of heart and intentions that drew boys to her like moths to a flame, and Damon, who resolutely tried to stop himself from falling into her charms, was no exception.
He hadn't wanted to fall for her, because it complicated everything, made him rethink every evil scheme. He'd changed a bit inside, and it showed in his actions.
He didn't flirt with Elena as often, didn't need to be around the beautiful blonde to feel whole. He hadn't thought about her in two weeks.
He still tortured Stefan, oh, nothing in the course of history would make him stop doing that.
But he had tried to be decent and civil to Bonnie, tried to make her forgive him for watching her and her friends almost die two times in a row (once controlled by malach, the other, of his own will, but according to a plan).
He didn't know why he was acting all nice now, he just knew it all started when he became obsessed with Bonnie McCullough.
Damon didn't like how he was changing bit by bit: how he tried to look out for Bonnie whenever he could, how his heart softened whenever he saw her. It was a divergence from his personality and it was driving him crazy.
What do you want, Damon Salvatore? Elena or Bonnie? Bonnie or your villain persona?
Doesn't matter, he thought back, with an amused smile. I can only have one of those, and I can't decide which. And it's not like if I choose Elena, I can have her directly. She still loves Stefan. If I choose my little witch, I can't have her right away, either. I'm going to have to get her to fall in love with me, step by step.
Oh, well, nothing comes easy.
Sighing, Damon turned on his heel to go back to town. He was hungry and he needed to feed. He was going to go look for four beautiful girls, and suck them dry in front of Stefan.
And then he figured he'd go and try to get drunk. A futile attempt, but he'd try to do it anyway. Save him from having to think about every messed up shit decision he'd have to make.
He patted the fat trunk of the tree, mentally thanking it kindly for reminding him yet again of one of the two girls he couldn't have, and was just about to leave when he caught a stirring something at the other side of the trunk. A stirring something with a head of red curls that looked terribly familiar.
Merda…An amused smile played on his lips.
This must be my lucky day. How could I have mistaken her for a rabbit?
Damon crossed the clearing silently and confirmed his suspicious. He was beside the sleeping Bonnie in an instant. It was the pretty little witch, and what she was doing here, at almost 5:30 in the afternoon was beyond him.
Did she see me? No…she would have called or run away…and tripped over something, most likely.
He watched her chest rise and fall (sometimes his eyes veered too low as to be decent) as she breathed in and out in a steady rhythm. He listened to her heartbeat. It was steady and slow and regular. Wondering what he had heard earlier, Damon shifted to watch her better.
She was slumped across the ground, her head resting on a root, fast asleep. It ached something inside him. In one limp hand, she was holding a candle holder, the candle melted and plastered all over it, and Damon immediately deduced she had been practicing magic.
Damon watched her with a want building up in his chest. It would be too easy to just grab her and kiss her…and then run away without waiting for her to yell at him.
Chuckling to himself, he cocked his head to the side.
Damon leaned low, and whispered into Bonnie's ear.
"What are you doing under there, little bird?"
With a gasp, she jolted, and with wide brown eyes, looked wildly around her, finally spotting Damon, who was leaning against the tree, looking as if he was engaging in a particularly enjoyable matter.
"So, Bonnie," Damon asked nonchalantly. She didn't trust herself to speak without trembling, so she just stayed quiet and glared at him viciously. He could smell her fear. "What are you doing here?"
Bonnie's third person POV, or whatever:
Remain silent. Remain silent.
She was scared. Bonnie considered running away—but that would be foolish. She couldn't outrun a vampire. And if he found out what the real reason was for her being here…
She'd die of embarrassment. Of mortification. The last thing she needed was for him to know she'd gone here to do exactly the kind of spell that Caroline would have done. Oh, fickle.
The Revealing Spell did exactly what was obvious from the name: it revealed a person's feelings for you. First, you had to chant the incantation as written in the book three times, all the while dripping candlewax to form a person's name.
The candle wax would then change color, according to the how that person felt about you: black would be hatred, red would be love, yellow would be like, and white would be neutral.
It was a whole lot silly, and school-girl-type-ish in a way. But Bonnie had been determined, only just a few hours before, to do it.
Hurriedly, she covered with her palm the clumsily spelled Damon on the ground next to her. What had transpired just a few moments earlier, before she fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion, had been downright weird.
Bonnie stared at the candlewax. And stared. And stared.
The 'Damon' was rapidly changing colors. It had already transgressed from black to yellow, to red, and then a sudden mixture of black and red.
Maybe she'd done something wrong. Clearly she'd done something wrong.
"I'm just not cut out for this witch stuff." Was the last thing she said before deciding to take a nap.
Enough with the flashbacks. The present was more important. Without it, she'd have no future.
Should she just stay and see what he wanted?
But… what if he hurt her? Was he hungry? Was Stefan around also?
The most logical thing to do, Bonnie, is to stay there until he goes away or something. Don't let him know you're afraid and don't get distracted by his…good…looks…God, he's gorgeous. Damn it, Bonnie!
"I could ask you the same question, Damon." Bonnie replied, with an upturn of insolence. Damon looked more amused than anything. She clenched the grass between her fist, gritting her teeth.
"Ah, but little bird, I asked you first," He taunted, his blue eyes staring her down in a way that made her flush red.
"I'm none of your business," Bonnie snapped back, her bottom lip jutting out. It was too cute, and Damon smirked.
"You are, actually, cara," Damon said suggestively, and smiled, in spite of himself, his eyes twinkling. He looked damn sexy, and for a moment Bonnie looked at him and quite seemed unable to look away from the smile on his face.
Damon seemed to understand, he flashed her one more dazzling grin, then turned it off. Bonnie berated herself for once again falling prey into the whirlwind of good looks whose name was Damon.
Then, finally getting a hold of himself, said whirlwind of good looks dropped gracefully down next to her, lying down on the grass, arms behind his head. He saw her eyes look at him with surprise, and then she bit down hard on her lip to keep from either smiling or yelling, he didn't know which.
"So, what does bring you here, to the big bad forest, little Red?" He began playfully, keeping his blue eyes on her. Bonnie looked exasperated for a second, before going along with it.
"Why, to see my grandmother, Mr. Wolf," She replied simply. Then, realizing how sick that sounded, immediately snapped her mouth shut. Damon didn't pursue.
She seemed flustered, and her gaze kept jumping around. Damon wondered what it was that had her so agitated. His interest aroused, he looked at her curiously.
"Erm, so," Bonnie struggled. "Forget about me, what about you? What are you doing here in the woods?"
They seemed to have nothing better to do than to toy with this question. But the vampire couldn't tear his eyes away from this girl—much less go away.
Damon sighed. "Took a walk to get away from Stefan and the wonderful Elena."
"O—oh." The wonderful Elena. Of course, Bonnie thought bitterly.
Ten minutes were spent in absolute silence, and Bonnie itched to ask him thirty different questions, or excuse herself and run away but had neither the courage nor the will to do either.
It was sunset, finally. Damon turned to lazily ask Bonnie what time she planned to go home. Unfortunately, sunlight has this thing of showing everything hidden, and enhancing everything already known. They were bathed in the golden glow of the sun's beams, and Damon couldn't look away.
The little witches' hair had always been a beautiful red, but when under the sun, revealed it had gold, orange, chestnut, and even pink in it. Her eyes, which were dreamily looking out into the distance, were a striking molten color that was just the right combination of brown and gold. Her red eyelashes cast shadows on her pale skin, and he could just make out the veins on her delicate neck.
He couldn't believe how such a beautiful specimen of a human was cursed to wander down at Earth, when, by all rights, Bonnie's kind of beauty was something no human eyes were deserving enough to behold. He knew how sappy that sounded.
Wonderingly, Damon reached out his hand and stroked her hair, softly, as if she were something so breakable.
Bonnie froze, under his touch, not knowing what to do or say, completely bewildered. She hadn't expected Damon to be…gentle. Hell, she hadn't expected him to stroke her hair. What was happening?
It felt nice—more than nice, it felt amazing. Cautiously, but wanting to see how far it would go, Bonnie leaned in towards his touch.
There's your chance…kiss her now and seal the deal.
Damon's insides froze up and he stopped. He couldn't understand why he had to feel uncertain now, when usually, he'd be swooning her with caresses and kisses and suggestive looks. He'd had way more than his fair share of girls, tons of experience, and it shouldn't be affected by this little redhead of a witch.
Besides, he wanted to know how she tasted like.
He started for her lips—but he ended up, wrapping his arm slowly around her waist and kissing her tenderly on her forehead. And not even regretting a bit of it.
It was this gesture—this sweet gesture that had Bonnie reeling inside, and that hatred that kept Damon Salvatore out of her started to break.
What am I doing? Why…why am I feeling like this? He is and will always be Elena's, not mine. NEVER mine.
I need to stop this—he's probably just playing me. He doesn't even know—doesn't even know I lo—
Bonnie swallowed nervously.
"Damon—" She said in a soft voice.
He growled suddenly. He didn't want to hear it; the condemnation of his actions, the truth that she didn't feel the same for him.
So he leaned in and kissed her on the mouth.
She tasted like chocolate—tantalizingly sweet and rich, with just a bit of spiciness to it. Damon wanted more, more of her, more of her taste, more of everything—and he just lost all control.
(A/N: Little graphic here, people…this is my first time writing a graphic kiss scene that does not compose of: 'And they kissed and it was very good, and then they pulled away'. Yey!)
He pushed his tongue against her mouth, asking for entrance. She didn't give it. Panicked, Damon wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed her tightly against him. He hadn't felt a need like this in decades.
He broke away from her lips just to murmur against her neck. "Please, Bonnie."
All he heard was her gasp as she nodded.
He trailed open-mouthed kisses down her neck, stopping at her collarbone, considering sucking it, but then brought his mouth back to hers.
He was persistent and he kissed her hard, before once again asking for entrance, which the little witch gave him, this time.
The way her arm suddenly slid up to wrap around his neck, and the way her hand played with his hair made him moan. He hadn't expected her to feel so good.
Their tongues fought for dominance—and Damon won. He suckled on her bottom lip, all the while running his hands up and down her sides, smirking at her moan. His hand slid down to press her hips closer to his and—
"Stop, Damon—"
She was the first to pull away, with some difficulty. She couldn't say she didn't want it. Hell no, she wanted it, more than she could say. She had wanted him for a long, long time.
Bonniewanted to be in his arms again, and feel his lips on hers, but this was dangerous territory they were trespassing in, and she couldn't trust herself not to give in to his caresses and his kisses and….whatever else those glinting blue eyes are suggesting.
Besides, how could she know he just wasn't doing this because Elena chose Stefan? How could she not suppose that of Damon, who loved Elena more than anything? Bonnie was foolish, foolish to hope and stupid to wish—
"Bonnie." Damon cringed. "Bonnie, please. Give me a chance."
"What did you say?" Bonnie shrieked in disbelief, and Damon's eyes widened, hurt, and then narrowed darkly. He then said, in voice completely void of emotion.
"It was nice seeing you, Bonnie. I should go now—"
She took his hand and held on to it as he began to stand up.
"Are you crazy? Are you insane, Salvatore?" She hissed. She stood straight up, eyes wild with something.
"No." Damon couldn't help but let a bit of his hurt creep into his voice. He hadn't expected this. Well, he had, but it still hurt. More than it should.
"Damon—you love Elena." Her voice broke, and she blinked furiously.
"You don't like me, you love Elena. You're just a bit hurt from her choosing Stefan, is all." Bonnie said thickly, hating herself for every word that flew out of her mouth, but hating the fact that it was all true—every bit of it. But she was proud of herself for not crying, and was not at all sure why Damon wasn't thanking her for letting him see the light or something—
For her brave act of sacrifice, she was now pinned to the fire tree, with an angry vampire pressed against her. She could feel his hard abs under the grey shirt he wore. Was this karma for something she'd done? If so, then she wanted to have karma for the rest of her life, if this is what it felt like.
"Love Elena?" Damon hissed furiously, eyes black. He growled menacingly, and she squealed.
"Damon, you're hurting me," Bonnie cried.
He relented his hold, then after a beat, held her to him tighter, molding their bodies together and expressing something that words couldn't describe.
"I don't love Elena, Bonnie." Damon whispered roughly, letting his breath waver over her in a tantalizing way. Bonnie struggled to keep herself in control.
"You…don't?" She said slowly. He can't be serious.
"No." Damon answered, with a finality. "I love someone else."
"Oh…" was all Bonnie could say. Then she piped up. "Then who is it?"
Damon's agonized moan rang through the air. Then he brought his lips down onto her and Bonnie had her answer.
"For real?" She pulled away and stared at him with big eyes.
Damon growled. "Yes, woman. Now shut up and let me damn kiss you—"
And his mouth was on hers again.
Her giggle sounded through his mind. I was only joking.
He bit her lip and nibbled on it, eliciting a gasp from her. He smirked. Her fingers raked down his back, digging into the skin and he moaned into her mouth. She felt amazing.
They had to pull back for that very important thing called oxygen. Dreamily, brown eyes stared deep into blue ones. Damon's smirk broadened. He had never seen her so beautiful before, with the marks his kisses had left on her neck, and with his scent all over her.
Bonnie took great panting breaths. Her small frame was still pressed against him hard, and they fitted perfectly. Her little hands were in fists, her brown eyes dancing. The smile that was on her face was painstakingly beautiful—and he had put it there.
I'm the damn luckiest man in the world. He chuckled, and when she answered him with a questioning look, he shot a thought into her mind.
You're stuck with me now, bella—no go backs.
Bonnie let out a laugh and answered. You know, that doesn't half-bad, actually. I'd love to spend my entire life with you.
Damon hugged her to him, tightly. Soon, he'd ask her. He'd ask her. But not now.
Now was them, him and Bonnie, and the heat of their kisses, and the intensity of their looks, and the color of his eyes, and the taste of her lips, and all the pent-up desire that time brings.
And so they stood there, twined in each other's embrace, under the shade and the falling petals of the fire tree.
Aaaaand...it's done! Okay…so I hoped it was okay and not too choppy or sappy or sucky. I did try my best.
Anyways, hope you guys liked it and thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a comment!
'Damon hugged her to him, tightly. Soon, he'd ask her. He'd ask her. But not now.'
Cookies to anyone who figures out whatever he's planning on asking her. Mind you, it's pretty obvious ;)
Thanks so much again for reading!
…Press the little green button (in a sing song voice).
C'mon, press it. Press it. Press it. Please?