Damon Salvatore One Shots

Damon and Y/N are oblivious and everyone can tell

i.

Damon drinks his coffee black.

There's something about being alive for nearly 200 years that makes the bitter taste manageable and almost desirable, to a certain extent. He remembers his father used to fill up his cup with the smallest bit of coffee, then top it off with milk. It's partially the reason milking down coffee disgusts him now.

Then, the morning after Elena throws a party at his house he finds Y/N scourging his fridge for milk. At the time, she was relatively new to the group; one of Bonnie's friends from Whitmore. She had an uncanny knowledge of the supernatural, despite her being a human. Damon had stood in the doorway of his kitchen silently, watching her slam doors and reopen the fridge, practically gasping every time.

"Looking for something?" He said, his voice low and leering, in hopes to startle her. She didn't even jump. She turned around, stealing the breath from him with her doe-eyes and apple cheeks.

"Where do you keep your milk?"

Damon chuckles, stepping into the kitchen and stretching his arms over his head. Her eyes followed him as he moved around the island, falling to his toned abs that flexed when he yawned. "Milk? I haven't bought that in years."

She cocked her head to the side, her brows pressed together in question. "Ohhh-kayyy, do you have creamer?"

Damon picks a coffee mug from the cupboard ahead, reaching for the pitcher warm and brown with fresh brew. "Nope." He turns around to her, raising the mug to his lips and sipping gently, relishing in the warmth and bitterness of the beverage.

"You drink your coffee black?" She asks, surprised. Damon hums a 'yes' in response, leaning forward onto the counter, clearly too tired for Bonnie's new friend to be pestering him on how he drinks his coffee.

"Gross. I'm going to get you some." She turns around, her hair floating behind her as she walks out of the kitchen, calling over her shoulder. "Only sociopaths drink their coffee black and I have faith in you."

She leaves no trace of her existence other than the soft smell of lavender. A smell that Damon would learn to associate with her silky hair. He stands there in amazement, raising his hand to feel his hastening pulse, surprised at the effect the girl had on him.

Bonnie comes into the kitchen next, pawing at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. Damon barely notices her walk in, still standing shirtless at the kitchen island, replaying the conversation he just had on a loop in his head.

"What's wrong with you?" Bonnie asks.

"Who's your friend? The one from Whitmore."

"That's Y/N. I literally told you about her weeks ago. We're moving in together next semester."

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. She has a pretty name, he decides, and like that he's infatuated.

She came back less than an hour later, a bottle of oat milk held in her arm. By then, the kitchen is full with her new friends and Damon who's in the process of tearing open a blood bag, trying to give it to Elena. She's not surprised in the slightest, gives the blood bag nothing more than a once over.

Y/N's eyes cross the kitchen, meeting Damon's. "I bought you oat milk."

"Why didn't you just get regular milk?"

"Because that's disgusting." She says, deadpan, moving around the kitchen to pour herself some coffee. She mixes in the milk graciously until the coffee becomes a soft-milky brown. Rebekah reaches for the milk after, pulling it towards her.