The Vampire Diaries Interracial Imagines

damon/stefan

Imagine sleeping with Damon when he's drunk. (PART TWO)

**
My phone rang once more with the same ringtone blaring across the room. It only reminded me of the embarrassment I felt when I heard him say her name when he said he wanted to fuck me. But that wasn't the case, was it? Because if that that were true, we would have spent the night together. Him moaning my name, me screaming his. We would have woken up next to each other just to have a round two.

Finally, after a few seconds, the phone stopped ringing and there was a knock on my door almost simultaneously. I shot up from my bed, eyes darting to my bedroom door that led to a hallway in the cramped flat; a short hallway, at the end is a door to the rest of the apartment building.

Who could that have been? I already told Elena I was sick and didn't want her to worry about me. Same with a Bonnie, and Caroline and I didn't really talk like that anymore. Damon knew it was best to call me first, not just show up on my doorstep. Of course, I also didn't expect him to fuck up my name while trying to have sex with me.

I pulled the covers back slowly and unsurely, afraid of what might be on the other side of that door. Klaus wouldn't have wasted his breath knocking on the door and waiting patiently as I took my sweet time to open it. His siblings would do the same—breaking into my apartment. There was no one else on our radar, therefore my radar, to scare me the way this knock scared me.

Just as I got closer to the door, I stopped. My door, of course, was the only door in the building that had a broken peep hole from when a woman got her ass beat by her husband. When I heard about the story in the paper, I knew I had to hop on this apartment before anyone got the same idea: broker the price down using the crime earlier committed in said apartment. Got exactly what I wanted, at the price I wanted, when I desired it.

Now, knowing that the peep hole was broken, I wished I would have reported it to the management.

"Y/N, please, open the door."

That was Stefan's voice.

I nearly tripped over myself to open the locks. When I swung open the door—surprise, surprise—the youngest Salvatore was standing at my door, shoulders slumped and a disappointed glint in his green eyes. I wanted to hug him, immediately take away his pain but there was nothing I could do if this had to do with Elena. And for some odd reason, I had a feeling it did.

He took a second to soak in what I was wearing, which hadn't come to mind. If this were anyone else, especially Damon, I would have been more embarrassed that I was now. With Stefan, I didn't have to hide myself. I didn't have to feel bad about being who I was—the non-skinny, non-white chick at an all white school. If this were anyone else, especially Damon, I would have covered up immediately.

"Stefan," I started, breathily, "what are you here?"

"Damon told me. About what happened."

I groaned, worst fear coming true. There was a feeling that he was only here to comfort me in my time of need I couldn't shake. Now my fears were confirmed.

"Stefan, please. Let's just forget it even happened." I spun around on my heels after saying this, and marched straight to the kitchen to the right in the narrow hallway.

The compassionate Salvatore wasted no time in following me into my apartment. As close as Stefan and I were, he'd never been in here. He always waited at the door, or outside the threshold. And because of that little fact he ran straight into a wall neither of us could see.

"Come in!" I yelled behind me, knowing about his little predicament.

"Fuck," he cursed behind me. My neck whipped around to see him still standing there with sad, devastated eyes.