fishcat480

[fishcat480]

Dog in Winter

SUMMARY:

Kids from Districts 1-4 don't have to fear the reaping.

Careers always volunteer.

Until a tragic accident forces Lustre Baneswood into the Games with no hope of winning. An actor, and the daughter of a Gamemaker, Lustre has to decide what she desires more: glory or her life.

But there is a dark underbelly to the Games, and winning is not always the end. Lustre Baneswood is going to discover the price one has to pay for beating the odds.

Spanning from the 72nd Hunger Games all the way to three years after the events of Mockingjay, this is the story of a girl struggling to reclaim her identity after giving it away to the people who would hurt her most.

FANDOM: Hunger Games

Pairing: Original Plus Size Character/Original Male Character

Other Characters: Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, Gloss, Cashmere, Joanna Mason, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, President Snow, President Coin, Gale, Prim

It was 5am when the call came.

I’d been awake for hours writing, the only time I was able to get any of it done. Mother doesn’t like my writing, and classes at the observatory took up all of my time during the day. My hands were cramping over the datapad keyboard, and I swiped a knuckle over my bloodshot eyes, trying desperately not to succumb to sleep. 

The sound of the phone had been so unexpected I’d jerked violently upright. With a cursory glance at the time, I quickly padded out of my room and into the empty hall. Moonlight shone in harsh slivers through the full-length windows. I followed the ringing sound through the silver-white hallway and into the main room of our apartment, where the phone lay next to the front door. 

“Hello?” I said, agitation and fatigue coloring my voice. The door to my parents’ room opened and my mother stepped cautiously out, her hair wrapped in a pink silk turban and mouth set in a firm line. My father was just behind her, his eyes horizontal slits, his hair a tuft of downy cotton.

The voice on the phone shrieked at me. “Frederick?! Frederick something’s happened!”

I shook my head before I remembered they could not see me. “No, this is his daughter. Is this an emergency?”

The voice went from feverish to chilly in a moment, freezing my veins like icicles. “Put him on, love. It’s urgent.” 

My father had already begun walking over, and he took the phone from me quickly. “Hello?” he asked, his hands reaching into the breast pocket of his pajamas, where he’d placed a box of matches. He fumbled in the drawer of the side table for smokes.

“Uh- huh…Yes, I remember….”

I watched him for a moment, hoping his body language might clue me into what was going on. When I got nothing, I joined my mother on the opposite side of the room. “ D’ya think everything’s ok?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s the Games. Everything’s an emergency.”

The Games were the most hectic time of our family’s life, with my father a showrunner and my mother performing in reenactments and singing at parties. Even my brothers had gotten involved now that they were out of school. 

Still, the voice on the phone had sounded scared. Desperate. Something felt off. 

“You’re joking.” my father said, lowering the cigarette from his mouth, and bellowing. “You’re fucking joking.” 

“Fredrick?” my mother asked immediately. My father did not raise his voice ever. He stared at us, his face ashen, as he listened to whatever news was being delivered on the other end. 

“Dad?” I asked, when his eyes locked onto mine and didn’t leave.

“We’ll get another volunteer.” he said, desperate. “There are dozens of kids. Dozens of options.”

Volunteer…?

The reaping had been two days ago, and as expected, both tributes had been volunteers, eager to go into the Games. That’s why I hadn’t even flinched when they called my name. Reaping day was like picture day at school - annoying, but a good excuse to get out of class.

My volunteer had been my best friend. It was her final year in the reaping pool, and her last chance to go into the Games and prove herself. If I could bet, I would have bet on her winning the entire thing. 

But now my father was looking at me like I was a hundred miles away, and talking about other volunteers. Why did we need another volunteer? Where was Razzle?

“Dad!” I cried. “What’s going on?”

Tears had begun falling onto his cheeks, and my mother was lurching forward to hold his face in her hands. The excitement had woken my brothers now, both of them tumbling out of their rooms with mussed hair and slurring voices.

“Luster, what’s happening?” Kellen asked from behind me, he and Jace standing on either side of me. Jace scratched his chest with a lazy hand. 

“Something bad.” I said. That was all I knew. 

My mom was soothing our dad, her hands trying to rub away tears that just kept coming. The phone was pressed to my dad’s ear, still listening. He gently pushed my mom’s comfort away, resignation taking over. Something had happened to Razzle. 

“What time?” he asked. The answer made him sigh. 

“Ok.” And he hung up. My mother didn’t waste any time. “Frederick,what on earth is going on? It’s practically dawn. The Games are your job, not your life. Oh, these people!”

My mother continued ranting, but my father was looking at me again. I knew already that I would be leaving, but my mind was obsessing more over the why.

“What happened to her?” I asked. My mother grew quiet. My brothers looked confused.

“Training accident.”

“Is she…?”

“Yes.”

Dead. Razzle was dead. And she had volunteered in my place.  

“When are they coming to get me?”

“Within the hour.”

My family’s eyes were widening and cries of indignation sounded on their tongues. “She’s going into the Games!?” my mother yelled. “No! Frederick, no!”

“She’s not trained.” Kellen said. Jace said nothing. He wasn’t much for talking. 

“She was reaped!” my father explained. “And her volunteer has died. It is law that she must go.”

My mother’s eyes bugged out of her head. “And you’re a showrunner. Surely they don’t expect the law to apply to us!” 

It often didn’t. 

“This is different. This is the Games. If Luster becomes exempt from them for being my daughter, then other future tributes could argue their way out of participating. Snow would have to weed them out and use force. It could foster dissent.”

It was five in the morning and my family was standing in the living room, talking of treason. 

“It’s fine. I’ll go.”

Kellen scoffed, arms folded across his chest. “You’ll die. You’re not a career, you’re a fucking actress.”

 The heel of my mother’s hands were pressed against her eyes, her perfectly manicured nails curled tightly against the palm of her hand. “Kellen! Please, that’s not necessary.”

My father puffed on his cigarette, lost in thought. Kellen didn’t back down. “She’s not going to live, mom. Am I supposed to just sit here and watch while my sister dies?”

She draped herself across the chaise. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to Pedro in casting. Maybe a lookalike?”

My father joined her, looking intrigued. “That might work. We’ll release her for training, but for the arena it can be anyone. Keep the close-ups to a minimum, kill her in the first ten minutes.”

Jace was still standing next to me. I watched in abject horror as my parents and Kellen planned the murder of an innocent girl in place of myself. I felt something warm on my hand, and looked down to see Jace’s pinky linking with mine. Then his whole hand. When I turned to him, he didn’t look upset or scared. He was smiling at me. 

“Who was the girl who did makeup for you for 68?” Kellen had his hands on his hips, pacing across the living room. He looked the picture of a gamemaker, and it made my stomach swoop like drinking milk that had turned. 

“Petra or something?” he asked. “Get her involved.”

My mother was taking notes on an old script. My father was punching something into a datapad, tugging at his hair in distress. 

“Stop.” I called, but they ignored me.

“We’ll have to keep Luster out of sight for at least a year. Julian will find us a nice little bungalow for her to lie low in.”

“Pay for it now.” my father said. “Travel to the Capitol increases after the Games.”

“Stop!” I said again, and this time I got their attention. 

“You are not killing a random girl just so I can live. That’s actually insane!”

My father shook his head. “No, there are people who like the attention! They’ll do it willingly.”

Willingly….When had someone in a District past four ever gone into a Games willingly? 

“I don’t care. That’s fucked.” I removed my hand from Jace’s and ran it through my hair. “This whole thing is fucked.”

Gently, Kellen approached me. “Luster, I know you’re stressed. Let us …un fuck this for you. A year in lockdown, a new Games will happen, and everyone will forget about it. Then we’ll get you a job at the studio.”

“Doing what?” I laughed. “I’m eager to know what you think I’d want to do at the studio.”

He shrugged, frustration evident. “Stylist? Hair and makeup? I don’t know, Luster! I don’t really care, as long as you’re alive.”

“And what about the other tributes? The ones from 9? Or 12? The ones who don’t have careers to volunteer for them. What about the people who want them alive?”

My mother harrumphed, and somehow she had moved from the chaise to the bar, pouring herself a glass of port. “Oh, sweetie, it’s too early in the morning to develop a conscience.”

But drinking wine, I thought bitterly,  was perfectly acceptable. If I said anything, she’d hold my impending doom up as her reason for indulging. My head was on the chopping block, but she’d be the one to lose blood somehow. I didn’t particularly care to open that can of worms, so I ignored her entirely in favor of turning to my father. 

“Daddy, I don’t want you to get me out of this.”

That statement shifted the temperature of the room greatly. Stillness blanketed us. Kellen punched something hard enough to break it, but I refused to look at what it was. He was always so petulant, and I wouldn’t give into him.

I held my father’s gaze, desperate for him to see things my way, if only for a moment. 

“I’ve done everything you guys wanted. I went to Opal instead of Harrison. I went into acting and not writing. I attended every party, talked to every miserable asshole, wore every stupid outfit. All I want in return is for you to let me go.”

He took a puff from his cigarette, already practically down to the filter. It was funny, watching him smoke. I’d never seen him do it before in my life. Not once.

“Why?”

It was a fair question. The answer was more complicated. Because it’s right …but he wouldn’t understand that. Because she volunteered for me…. He wouldn’t understand that either. Hell, I didn’t even understand why I wanted to go. But Jace was still smiling at me, still believing in me like he always had. Sometimes it felt like he knew what I needed before I even had a chance to do the needing.

“Because she was my best friend….and she was supposed to win.”

My father’s face fell. He may not have understood what was right, but he understood honor. He understood fair.  He nodded slowly, stubbing his smoke out on the arm of the couch. He must have still been half asleep.

“Ok.” 

He didn’t say anything else, and I thanked him quietly before giving him a hug. He held me to him, and it felt like when I was a girl and I would run to him as he came home from work, calling out to him in glee. He’d scoop me up from the ground and press all the pain and grief of his day into my bones, and I took it from him like any other gift. This hug felt like that. He was pressing his grief into my bones, except this time I was grieving too. 

When the peacemakers came, I went willing. Quiet. Everyone knew not to resist a peacemaker, even if you were in the right. Agitation led to aggression. Peacemakers were not aggressive dogs, they were violent ones. Hand biting often led to death.

Kellen had refused to say goodbye. I didn’t entertain his fury, just wrapped my arms around his middle. He didn’t move away, but he didn’t hug me back.

Mother was three pours in by the time I had to go. She blew air kisses and raised her glass. 

Jace gave me a proper hug and kiss, and pulling away from him had been the hardest goodbye of them all. 

“My writing…” I told him, and he nodded. 

“I’ll keep it safe.”

My father had taken helicarriers before. He would be taking one hours after me, headed to the Capitol for the Games. I hadn’t ever had the pleasure. 

While the door was open, wind and sound rotated around you in a maelstrom. There was something happening everywhere. A seatbelt was being placed across my lap, a pilot was checking gauges, the Peacekeepers chatting in even tones. When the door was closed, though, it was silent.

A light thrum of the engine was the only background noise, but I was effectively left alone with my thoughts for an hour. This was not good. 

My thoughts were instantly on Razzle, and with nothing to distract my mind, grief settled in my chest like a purring cat. 

She’d spent the morning of the reaping in my bed. We often had sleepovers, but this one had not involved much sleep. Her hands had touched me roughly, like sandpaper, and I had liked the grit of it. I was always considered so delicate, like glass. Razzle touched me like I was solid stone. 

She’d whispered promises into my hair, weaving them around the strands like the ribbons I would place there hours later. “When I win, we’ll go away.” She’d said. “When I win, we’ll have forever.”

When. There had been no question in my mind that there would be a when. The only question left unanswered was the how.

But now, there was no when or if or how. There was instead. 

We touched down in only an hour. My stomach roiled from the constant vibrations, and when I stepped off it lurched dangerously. Vomit pushed its way onto my tongue. I stopped halfway from the helicarrier and the safety of the roof entrance, the peacekeepers’ hands flying straight to their guns. 

I waved my hand at them to give me a moment, but they grabbed me violently by the arm and shoved me along my way. The nausea bobbed up and down inside me. I tried to keep myself from letting it give way to sickness. 

In the end I didn’t throw up, but I wanted to.

We took an elevator down, down, down. The first District tributes stayed on the first floor, with the second District tributes on the second and so on and so on all the way until the penthouse. District Twelve lived like cattle, so they got treated like kings. We were all being served up on the finest of China, waiting to be eaten whole.

The Peacekeepers kept their eyes trained on me. They wanted me to act out. A peacekeeper craved violence like a horse craved water after a long ride. The one to my left tightened his hand around his baton. I looked down at the floor.

They dropped me off in the first floor suite, where two people waited at the dining room table. I knew them as Gloss and Cashmere, winners of the  63rd and 64th Games respectively. Cashmere sat cross legged on the table, her silky blond hair pulled into a low ponytail. Her pajamas were champagne colored silk and they emphasized icy blue eyes that stared at me with no discernible emotion. 

Gloss stood scowling, his large arms folded across his chest. His pajama pants were silk, too, except in blackest black. Instead of the matching shirt he wore a white T-shirt. 

I felt a bit lackluster in my grey sweats and Opal academy shirt.

“You must be Luster.” Said Cashmere.

I nodded. 

“I’m Cashmere.” She waved, her lips forming into an inhumanly beautiful smile. She was like what you thought of when someone said ‘the prettiest girl you know’. 

“This is Gloss.” She pointed to him and he made no gesture of greeting. He simply stared.

The Peacekeepers that had escorted me were already back in the elevator. I looked around the suite for the first time and noted its distinct Capitol style. The furnishings were modern, with rich golds and deep blacks accenting them. The large dining table was made of frosted glass. A sectional couch took up most of the living room area, its cream colored cushions pristine in the light of a mini chandelier.

“Can I go to bed?” I asked.

Gloss sighed and dropped his arms. It was the first movement he’d made the entire time I’d been there. It was like watching a statue come to life.

“I’ll be your trainer.” He said, ignoring my question.

“Ok great. Can I go to bed now?”

Cashmere looked a bit puzzled. “Do you have any questions for us? I’m sure this has been a difficult transition.”

What a paltry word for what had happened. Transition implied choice, of which I had none.

“I’ll ask them in the morning. I haven’t been to bed and I’d like to get as much sleep as possible.”

Brother and sister stared idly at each other. They appeared to be having some sort of telepathic conversation, much like she’d seen Kellen and Jace do many times. She needed to fall asleep soon or she’d be plagued by memories of home.

The conversation ended when Cashmere motioned with her hand to where the tributes’ rooms were. 

“The door on the left.”

The other tribute had already claimed the room on the right. I would be sleeping in the same place Razzle had. 

I gave a curt nod and exited, my fists balled at my side. I didn’t relax until the door to my room was closed and I was lying on the very plush, inviting bed. 

It seemed the odds were ever in my favor, because no matter how hard I tried, I always seemed to get the short end of a very long stick.

#hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #fanfiction #drama #dark #character death #major character death #minor character death #underground fighting ring #the volunteer dies in training and the reaped candidate goes in instead #violence #canon typical violence #character study #plus size character #original female character #high class family #gamemaker #gamemaker's daughter #finnick x annie #finnick odair #peeta x katniss #annie cresta #peeta mellark #winter arena #snow arena #73rd hunger games #capitol family #career turned revolutionary

[fishcat480]

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Prince Friedrich (Bridgerton)/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Original Female Character(s), Anthony Bridgerton, Prince Friedrich (Bridgerton), Daphne Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton Additional Tags: Romance, Twins, there are nine Bridgerton siblings, Anthony Being A Good Brother, Daphne being a good sister, self deprecation, plus size character, plus size original female character, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angst, everything in between, Regency Summary:

Delilah Bridgerton and Daphne Bridgerton are twins. They share eyes, a nose, and a last name - but that’s where the similarities end. Not to mention Delilah is the clumsiest woman in the ton. While Daphne is falling in love with the Duke of Hastings, Delilah is making discoveries about herself. And she just might be falling for the most unattainable man of all. Her? A princess? She’d be a princess no sooner than pigs would fly.

This is one of my ongoing works on AO3! It’s almost finished, but I thought I’d crosspost if anyone was interested in checking it out!

#bridgerton #plussize #plussizecharacter #OC #plussizeOC #bridgertonfanfiction #friedrich #friedrichxoriginalplussizecharacter #anthonybridgerton #anthony #daphnebridgerton #daphmon #benedictbridgerton #benedict #colinbridgerton #colin #penelopefeatherington #penelope #romance #fluff #clumsymaincharacter #trialmarriage #princess #angst #fluffandangst #regency #regencyera #eventualsmut

[fishcat480]

Bad Day

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Plus size! Reader

Warnings: None

Description: You’re having a very bad day when Damon Salvatore decides to make it worse, but then maybe he also makes it much better.

It was one of those fucking days.

You know those days when everything just goes completely, spectacularly wrong?

You shouldn’t have even been surprised. Once you’d woken up and your favorite sweater had had cat puke on it, you should have given up there. But no - you just had to power through and continue your day.

You got a call right after breakfast that your car payment hadn’t gone through, and now you’d have to pay a late fee you couldn’t afford. While running errands, you’d managed to knock over your Starbucks in the middle of the aisle of Target, forcing you to have to buy another coffee. And once back home, you were greeted with a passive aggressive note from your neighboring apartment asking you to close your door “just a tad quieter”.

By the time you had to get ready for work, your ‘fucks to give’ meter was dangerously low.

You quickly tossed on your uniform shirt and broke several traffic laws driving to the Grill, because of course you were late. At a red light, you tossed your messy Y/H/C hair into a ponytail, griping at your reflection as some asshole in a sports car cut you off. Really? Who the hell drove sports cars in Mystic Falls? You’d only ever seen one person do that, and that was Damon Salvatore.

You scanned the license plate. Then you squinted to see inside the drivers seat and swore loudly. Damon fucking Salvatore. And he waggled his pale fingers at you before peeling off at top speed.

He was there at the Grill when you finally clocked in, tossing apologies at your manager and ignoring Matt’s teasing grins as you settled behind the bar and counted up your liquor. The day bartender threw you a goodbye and a sympathetic look.

Once finished your count, you sauntered over to Damon, who was enjoying a scotch on the rocks with a self righteous grin on his face.

“You cut me off.” you said, placing your hands on the bar.

He shrugged. “Did I?”

Damon had been drinking at the bar of the Grill long before you worked there, but somehow after you started you felt as if he was suddenly there all the time. You’d had an easy relationship at first, due to your infamiliarity. He was a flirt, you were determined to make good money. You flirt with Damon, he gives you a twenty on top of his tab. That was how it had always been for you, and for the other bartenders before you.

But something had changed, and you remembered the day that it did almost as well as you remembered Damon’s drink order.

It had been a slow night, with only Damon and his buddy Alaric holding down the fort. Most of the other drink orders came from tables, and those were practically empty too. You elected to pass the time with Damon and Ric, talking about nothing and everything. That quickly nosedived into a pissing contest between the two men and which one could do a handstand when you mentioned offhand that you were able to perform a fancy little trick, and that had been your downfall.

“There’s no way!” Ric was crying, his words slurring out of the side of his mouth. “You prove it right now.”

You folded your arms across your chest and shrugged, your grin too confident. Damon’s eyes were laser focused, and he took a long drag of his scotch, watching you intently.

“Don’t tease us…”he said finally.

You sighed, and cursed yourself.

Normally, you wouldn’t mind showing this particular party trick off for customers. It happened sometimes on raucous nights, when people were coming from or on their way to parties, looking to boost their mood and spend their money. It felt good to do it and see the looks of awe on their faces, sometimes even lust.

But you were feeling very self conscious at the prospect of doing it for Damon Salvatore.

You couldn’t deny he was attractive. His face, yeah, but his swagger was practically debilitating. He had the confidence of a much older man, which was funny considering you were the same age. There weren’t guys your age acting like him, of that you were sure.

It fueled your desire toward him as much as your flirtatious little routine did.

But Damon was always on the arm of the skinniest, hottest girl in the room. He’d chased after Elena Gilbert for a while, and she was less than half your size. There was no way his flirting had anything more to do with you than you wished. He liked to have fun, plain and simple.

Ric was slamming his fists on the table now, demanding you not to leave them hanging.

You mustered up all your courage - they knew what you looked like, you thought. They were asking you to do it.

So you lifted yourself up onto the bar in a much more fluid motion than you might have ever expected from yourself, and in one easy rotation you were doing a handstand.

You could feel the fabric of your shirt rising up, but you ignored it. You carefully started placing the majority of your weight on your left hand.

You could hear Ric and a few customers oohinh and aahing at you, and it spurred you on. You lifted your right hand into the air, and separated your legs a bit. And then you were doing a handstand on one hand.

You held the pose as Ric hollered and cheered, and then easily flipped backwards and onto your feet again before jumping back behind the bar, standing once more on your own two feet.

“Am I drunk or did I just witness cirque de soleil?” Ric asked.

“You’re drunk.” You told him, as you wiped off the spot on the bar where your feet had been. “But you did witness something pretty cool.”

Your eyes flitted over to Damon, curious to see if he had any kind of reaction. What you saw stopped you in your tracks.

His eyes were dark - darker than you’d ever seen them. There was something hungry in their expression, like you were dessert and he had saved plenty of room. His lips were covered by his tongue as it slowly lapped over it, before he closed his mouth and swallowed.

“Let’s do a shot.” Damon decided, reaching out and placing his hand on top of yours. “I’m buying.”

“Shots!” Ric called, and you internally groaned. He definitely did not need another one.

But you were glued into Damon’s atmosphere, and you watched as his thumb stroked along your hand. “You want me to do a shot?” you asked.

“That was hard work you did up there.” He encouraged. “You must be thirsty.”

You flushed, hoping Ric couldn’t see the effect he was having on you. When you glanced over, he was exclaiming happily as a Bruce Springsteen song came on, completely ignoring you. Your blush must have been crimson, and your cheeks felt as if they were on fire.

Damon’s thumb was still marking its path on your skin. You needed to get away fast.

“I’ll get those shots.”

“Sounds good.” Damon said.

“I’ll need my hand to pour them.”

He let out a sound of displeasure, but withdrew his hand from yours and you robotically turned away, pouring three shots of Bulleit bourbon. If your hand was shaking and you spilled one, that was between you and the security camera.

You, Ric and Damon cheersed, tapping your glasses on the bar top before throwing the alcohol back. Ric sputtered and coughed, and you giggled as he tried to compose himself.

“Well that’s me!” he said, standing up and lurching dangerously to the left. “I’m tapping out.” He went to put his card down, but as usual Damon stopped him. He started waving his card in your direction, but you made no move to grab it.

“I don’t even bother running you up a tab anymore. Damon’s always got it covered.” You admired that about Damon. A lot of people thought of him as kind of shitty, but you knew better. He was loaded, and he always spent the majority of that money on other people. Even after Elena had rejected him for good, he still came in and covered her tab from time to time. He’d done it for all of their friends. He’d even done it for Matt - despite their apparently rocky history.

Ric sighed in defeat. “Me and my teacher’s salary are very thankful.”

Once Ric had left, it was you and Damon. Alone.

Never before had you felt so nervous serving him by yourself. Whatever you’d seen in his eyes after your little show had altered the atmosphere between the two of you. It thrilled you and scared you all at once.

“How come you never told me you were so flexible?” Damon asked, as you cleaned Ric’s empty glasses. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you, and you were avoiding meeting his gaze like the plague.

You shrugged. “I didn’t realize you had any interest in my level of flexibility.”

“If it’s about you, I’m interested.”

Since when did he say things like that to you? God, and if his words didn’t just send shockwaves straight to your core. Had you stepped into an alternate reality where Damon Salvatore was horny for you? No, that couldn’t be right. He was a flirt, and he was probably still heartbroken over Elena picking his brother.

“Damon.” you said finally, meeting his eyes. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

He frowned. “And why not?”

You gave him a knowing look. “I know you.” He was looking for a rebound, and you wanted more than that.

His frown deepened, and within a few moments Damon had gone from sad to furious. There was something working beneath the surface, and he looked….hurt.

“Well, fuck you very much.”

He stalked out of the bar, and your jaw was on the floor. Never did you ever expect Damon to get mad when rejected. How many girls had said no or called him names or even slapped him while you’d watched, bemused, from your side of the bar? And every time he’d smiled or shaken his head. He’d thought it was funny. So what made you different?

The next time you’d seen him, he’d asked for a drink and didn’t say a word to you other than a hi, bye or check, please.

And then this morning he’d cut you off, as if he somehow knew you were having a shit day and wanted to make it even fucking worse, as only Damon Salvatore could do.

Which sucked, because you’d spent weeks wishing that he would man up and talk to you, and explain why he’d been so hurt that day. You’d spent weeks wanting to have Damon back, cracking jokes and flirting with you and being your best customer.

So you confronted him. It was going to be another slow night, and you more than had the time.

“You cut me off. And you did it on purpose.”

This got his attention. He looked up from his drink, his nostrils flaring.

“I cut you off because you’re not a very good driver.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, come on! I wasn’t even moving!”

“And yet, your inexperience was glaringly evident.” He downed the last of his scotch and shoved the glass toward you. “And I’ll take another whenever you’re ready to work.”

Oh, he had another thing coming if he thought he was going to speak to you like that! You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth and moved quickly to pour him a shot - you were on the clock after all, even though you’d much rather leave him hanging - but not the top shelf he was used to. Oh no, you were pouring him the cheap stuff.

You slammed the glass in front of him and slid it over, glaring. He gave as much as he got, giving you a wicked little smile before taking a sip.

And promptly spitting it out.

“What the fuck is that?” He asked, rising to his feet. He grabbed a handful of cocktail napkins and dabbed at what he’d spilled onto his shirt, but the damage was done.

“Oh, sorry, were you looking for something specific? Unless you specify, we typically just give customers the rail.”

You had no issue being bitchy bartender tonight. In fact, it was kind of fun to dish it out. And he deserved it for being a jerk.

“What the hell is your problem?” He yelled. “I cut you off. It happens. I’m kind of an asshole sometimes.”

You groaned in frustration. “What about the whole silent treatment for three weeks? I tell you I don’t want to sleep with you and you act like a child!”

He bristled violently at that, and then looked around for a moment. You weren’t really sure what he was doing until he grabbed Matt by the scruff of his neck and brought him around to your side of the bar.

“Y/N needs a fiver. You’ve got this covered, right?”

Matt sighed, but started cleaning pint glasses. You were about to protest when Damon began dragging you off, and Matt smiled apologetically.

“Just go with it! It’ll be a lot easier!” He tells you, and then he’s gone and you’re being dragged through the back of house and out the back door.

Once outside, Damon released his grip on your arm.

“What the hell are you doing?” You ask, incredulous. “I’ll get written up if I’m gone too long.”

“Look.” Damon says, ignoring your pleas. “You…you hurt my feelings that day, ok? You said something kind of mean, or implied it at least. But…I shouldn’t have handled it like that. I’m working on that stuff.”

“Mean?” You asked. “What did I say that was mean?”

He sighs. “Do I have to spell it out?”

You nodded. “All caps, double spaced, please.”

He laughed despite himself. “You basically implied that I am some womanizing creep that wanted to use you for your body.”

You blinked. And then blinked again.

“Ok, two things… the first: are you NOT a womanizing creep that uses women for their bodies?”

He raised his eyebrows, and his head tilted in thought. “Ok fair point.”

“And the second: that’s not what I meant at ALL.”

He brought a finger up to his mouth and placed the tip on his lower lip. “……you didn’t?”

“No. Damon, what I was trying to say was that I’m not your type, and that you probably just wanted me for a night because you were drunk. Which is great and fine, but that’s just not what I’m looking for. I want a relationship.”

There was confusion in his too-blue eyes, and he took a step toward you, entering your personal space.

“What do you mean you’re not my type?”

Oh lord, this was exactly what you didn’t want to talk about right now. You blew out a steadying breath, choosing your words carefully.

“The girls you date are usually of the same variety….both in looks and in size. So I just figured I wasn’t really your type.”

Damon’s entire face changed. Gone was the confusion and the mock anger, replaced with a quiet rage. He flexed his knuckles, and you involuntarily stepped back. He kind of looked pissed.

“You think I didn’t want to sleep with you because you’re not skinny?”

You struggled to get words out. “I mean, yes? In a way…”

“Are you fucking stupid?”

Did he really want an answer to that? Based on the dangerous look in his eyes, it was probably in your best interest to stay quiet.

He was now fully in your space, standing with you toe to toe. His arms were crossed over his chest, which was absolutely heaving. He was very, very angry and it was kind of turning you on.

“I have been throwing hints at you since the moment you started working here. I tip you double the amount I tip anyone else, I always call you pet names, I’m constantly flirting with you…and you really thought I just wanted one random night of fun because you were warm and available?”

His words were like shockwaves to your system. Now that you were faced with it, you realized that no other bartender had ever said anything good about Damon’s tips. Anytime you were switching shifts, he never called anyone else “darling” or “sweetheart”. He flirted, sure, but you were always different….

“Oh my god….” You said quietly. “Oh my god, I didn’t even realize…”

His hands were on your hips, and your senses were assaulted by him. He smelled good, clean with a hint of spice. His eyes were making you melt with the heat of his gaze. His fingers, too, worked over your skin in delicate little circles, and you knew that given the chance those fingers would drive you wild.

“I do want to sleep with you.” He says, and you sigh but he places a finger on your lips, shushing you.

“I do, and I’m not afraid to say it. I got…overwhelmed when you did that sexy little handstand, and I moved too fast. But what I really want is to take you on a date.”

You tentatively wrapped your arms around his neck, your forehead resting against his. “Yeah?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He breathes.

You don’t answer, just press your lips against his and let yourself drown in him. His lips are like brands against yours, and you can imagine steam coming off you both as your mouths battle for dominance, slotting and slanting over each other again and again until you’re breathless.

“Ok, but if you bring me here for our date there will be actual hell to p-“

He cut you off with another searing kiss. A promise.

So maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all.

#plus size reader #plus size #plus size reader insert #Damon Salvatore #Damon Salvatore x plus size reader #bartender au #Matt Donovan #Alaric Altman #getting together #miscommunication #tvd #the vampire diaries #tvd fanfiction #fanfiction #plus size fanfiction

[fishcat480]

Go Timberwolves!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Plus size! cheerleader!reader

Description: You're a cheerleader and Elijah is in the stands. Your friend Jessica notices him first.

Warnings: none

____________________________________________________________

“Who is that?”

Jessica was looking over at the stands and toward a group of guys, all sitting next to each other. They looked hilariously out of place, all seemingly dressed for different events. The one with reddish hair and kiss-me lips was wearing a velvet jacket over a v-neck, three necklaces dangling over his heart. You’d seen him hanging around before, and recognized him as Rebekah’s brother Klaus. How many times had he been watching Caroline from the sidelines during a game or desperately offering to walk her to her car? Doubtful that Jessica didn’t know who that was, or that he was clearly obsessed with everyone’s favorite blonde.

Then there was the youngest of the three. He was dressed pretty normally for a high school football game in a t-shirt and jeans. He spoke animatedly to Klaus, who looked about as thrilled to listen as he would have been to get struck by lightning. His name was escaping your memory, but it was another K name, you were sure of it. Kyle! No…Kal?

All thoughts of K names were stripped from your thoughts the second your eyes landed on Jessica’s mystery man. 

His hair was dark, and his eyes were darker. His features were angular, practically Grecian. He was wearing a suit, which was ridiculous because who wore a suit in Mystic Falls unless they were a realtor or attending a Lockwood party? Somehow, though, he pulled it off so perfectly that there was no question that he should be wearing it. 

Never had you been so struck by a stranger. His eyes scanned over the crowd, and across the field, before landing squarely on you.

You blushed and turned away, heart thundering in your chest.

Elena and Bonnie had followed Jessica’s gaze too, and gave each other knowing looks. You were friendly with Elena but not close. You and Bonnie had been good friends since middle school, though, so you felt no shame sidling up to her and joining her conversation.

“Info on Jessica’s mystery man?” you asked, spreading your legs as you sat next to Bonnie, beginning to stretch. She laughed and gave you a stern look. “He’s Klaus’ older brother. No mystery.”

You bent forward, stretching out your back and Bonnie followed suit. “Off limits?” you ask, trying to seem curious but not invested. 

“Yes.” she said quickly. Elena smacked Bonnie’s thigh. 

“Elijah is not off limits.” she said. “He’s actually the only one out of the three of them I’d say is pretty on…limits…”

Elijah....you tried the name out in your head. Yes, you decided, that was a good name.

You all giggled. “I mean, Klaus is just too in love with Caroline.” you shrugged. “I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere near him.” 

You sat up and bent your neck to the side, eyeing the rest of the cheerleaders. “Hey, where is Caroline?”

“Tyler drama.” Bonnie said conspiratorially. She sat upright, finished with her stretching. “He’s leaving again.”

“Shit.” you said, finishing up yourself. “I don’t really know what she sees in him anyway. He’s always been kind of an asshole. And Klaus seems to really like her.”

“Well Klaus needs to earn her.” Elena said hastily, turning away slightly. You weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but if Bonnie’s similarly agitated face was any indication, there was something going on that you weren’t in on. It wasn’t really any of your business anyway, you conceded, so you didn’t harp on it. Boy drama was so not your thing.

There was a fanfare suddenly, as the marching band began playing the introduction music for the Timberwolves. Rebekah stood and called you and the other cheerleaders into formation. 

Once the players began coming out, you’d go right into the classic Timberwolves fighting cheer. 

Just as the first player was making his entrance, a blonde head appeared next to you, startling you. It was as if she'd appeared out of thin air.

“Caroline!” you said, throwing a hand on your chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

She smiled nervously. “Did I?”

You just laughed and joined the rest of the girls in the Timberwolves fighting chant, shaking your pom-poms and kicking your legs up. 

The game didn’t start out super well for the Timberwolves, so you didn’t have a ton to do for awhile. You spoke to Caroline briefly about Tyler, but she didn’t want to say much, and she seemed genuinely upset about something. You weren’t close enough with her to give her emotional support, so you instead distracted her with a quick game of fuck, marry, kill between the three handsome Mikaelson boys. 

“Kill Kol, Marry Klaus, Fuck Elijah.” Caroline said confidently. Kol! That was his name.

She was speaking a bit loudly, like she wanted someone to hear her. Probably Jessica. 

You glanced up at the stands and noticed Klaus and Kol with their heads bent together. Elijah looked completely nonplussed. 

“What about you?” she asked. 

You glanced up at the brothers again. Elijah was looking in your direction now, almost as if he was listening to your conversation. He was probably just looking at the cheerleaders. He definitely wasn’t admiring you - you were the only girl on the squad who wore a uniform above a size large. 

Still, you couldn’t help but fantasize about the idea of the three of them. Kol wasn’t really your type, so he was an easy kill. Klaus was gorgeous, to be sure, but something about Elijah was still singing through your veins after laying eyes on him that first time. 

“Kill Kol, fuck Klaus, marry Elijah.”

Caroline gave you a wicked smile. “Elijah, huh?”

You shrugged. “He’s incredibly good looking.”

“Poor Kol.” Caroline said, her lip pouting. 

“Rejection builds character.”

You glanced up again, and Elijah looked as if he might be laughing - Klaus too. Kol had his arms crossed against his chest. Weird….

Rebekah shrieked all of a sudden, breaking you out of your thoughts, as the Timberwolves finally scored, and the squad got on their feet to cheer. 

The game ended with a Timberwolves win which you were thankful for - every win meant half price burgers at the grill. You and a few other girls planned to go there after, and you grabbed your stuff from the locker room, hoping to get to your car and beat them there - you were not going to be the fat girl in a mini skirt sliding into a booth full of people. 

Bonnie, Elena and Caroline were all leaving together, huddled in conversation. 

“Half price burgers, ladies?” you asked, walking backwards in front of them. “A Timberwolves win is a win for all of us.” you joked, quoting your incredibly cringy gym coach.

The girls laughed, but shook their heads. 

“Homework.”

“Boy drama.”

“Tired.”

They’d all spoken at the same time, and you gave them all an incredulous look. “Ladies, I’m heartbroken. Next time if you’re going to break my heart, do it one at a time.”

You gave them a winning smile, and they returned it easily, thankful you hadn’t been upset.

“Next time I’m making you guys go!” you called, still walking backwards as you exited the hallway out of the locker room. You backed into the double doors leading to the parking lot and called a goodbye to them, turning around.

And slamming right into someone.

“Oh!” you cried, toppling towards the asphalt. The ground never came, though, because a pair of hands was holding you steady, and lifted you slowly upwards until you were staring Elijah Mikaelson in the face.

“My apologies.”he said, in a voice that hit that your ears and sent shivers straight to the apex of your thighs. Your jaw dropped, suddenly faced with his nearness. 

“Not at all!” you cried. “I wasn’t looking.” 

Not too far away stood Kol and Klaus. The former was watching you and Elijah, looking like he was trying very hard not to laugh. Klaus, of course, had become distracted the moment Caroline had appeared. He was stalking towards her, and to your surprise, Caroline looked like she might be walking towards him too. Normally she brushed him off completely. 

You focused your attention back on Elijah. 

“Excellent job tonight.” he said, his eyes locked on yours. You felt flushed from the unbroken eye contact, but didn’t dare break it. 

“Thanks. It makes our job a bit easier when the team actually manages to score.”

He laughed, full and bright, and it made your heart soar to hear it. 

“I’m Y/N.” you said, introducing yourself. 

“Elijah. Mikaelson.”

“Nice to meet you Elijah.” 

You offered your hand and he took it firmly in yours, but rather than shake it, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of it. Ok, you were officially a puddle on the ground and people were going to have to step in you to get to their cars.

“Hi!” came a bubbly voice, and you glanced over seeing Jessica. Of course she was going to try and stake her claim. 

“I’m Jessica.” she said, sidling up next to you. “I saw you in the stands earlier. You’re a Mikaelson, aren’t you?”

Elijah nodded politely. “My reputation precedes me.”

Jessica smiled her flirty smile and pushed her chest out. “Rebekah and I are good friends. I make a point to know my friends’ families. It’s only good manners.”

You rolled your eyes involuntarily from behind Jessica, who had stepped into your space. When had she ever spent time with Rebekah outside of practice? She was clearly making her claim known, and you huffed, backing off. 

A guy like Elijah wouldn’t be interested in you, anyway. It would have been nice to at least been given a chance, though, before perfect little Jessica had to come in and do her thing. 

You sighed to yourself. That wasn’t nice. Jessica was your friend. It just sucked, sometimes, being the only bigger girl in a group of girls. Things were different for you. 

“Well, I’ll let you two get acquainted.” you said, and Jessica quickly told you not to wait up for her at the Grill. You smiled encouragingly at her, even though you would have rather eaten nails. Jessica did technically see Elijah first, though, so regardless, the rule of dibs was firmly in place. Elijah’s eyes met yours and he looked…disappointed? It was probably nothing. 

As you turned to go to your car, Matt Donovan brushed past you, walking fast. “Sorry, Y/N!” he called, power walking to his truck. You shook your head, laughing. You’d never seen Matt move that fast for anything, not even out on the field.

The other girls had made their way out now, and you caught up with them briefly to let them know you'd be going home instead of out. You weren't really in the mood for celebration any more. They gave you tight hugs and told you to call them in the morning, and you gave them all the finger just to get a laugh out of them.

Bonnie was leaning against her car when you made your way to yours. 

“Why’d you do that?” she asked, giving you a curious look.

“Why’d I do what?” you said, tossing your duffle into the backseat. 

“You just let Jessica take over. You were talking to Elijah first.”

“Yeah, but Jessica saw him first. Besides, I bumped into him. It’s not like we talked about anything profound.”

Bonnie sighed. “You wanted to talk to him though.”

You crossed your arms. “Yeah, so?”

“So!” she cried, placing her hands on your shoulders. “So you’re the funniest girl on the planet, and you're beautiful and talented and you deserve to be happy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“It’s true! You’re amazing.”

“I know, I just wanted you to say more.”

Bonnie shoved at you playfully. “See? Your wit is unmatched.”

“And you’re kind.” you said seriously. “And a really, really good friend.”

Bonnie looked down, her mouth quirked to the side. “Thank you.”

A laugh echoed from across the parking lot, and you stared at Caroline and Klaus standing by Caroline’s car. They were standing close together and laughing, and Klaus’ finger was twirled around a strand of Caroline’s hair.

You hit Bonnie in the shoulder and pointed. 

“Ummmmmm?” You gave her an incredulous look.

“I know!” Bonnie said, coming to lean against your car. “She said she broke up with Tyler. She said she’s done with wishy-washy.”

You smiled happily as the two continued flirting. “I’ve been dying for them to get together.”

“No, literally!” She threw her hands up in the air. “The tension was incredibly cuttable.”

You snorted. “Like, thick enough I think I’d need a chainsaw.”

Bonnie hid her giggle behind her hand. You watched Klaus and Caroline as Bonnie began asking you if you were still going to the grill.  You wished you had a guy to flirt with against your car.

“I’m kind of hungry all of a -”

Bonnie’s voice trailed off, and you tore your eyes away from the happy couple to stare at your friend. 

“Bon?”

Her eyes were trained behind you, a small smile on her lips. You followed her eyes, and there was Elijah. His nearness startled you, and you jumped a foot in the air.

“My apologies.” he said, amusement in his eyes. 

“We have got to stop meeting like that.” you responded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Bonnie called, already on the other side of her car and hopping in the front seat. You gave her an incredulous look. 

“Traitor!” you called, as she began to pull out. She looked completely self righteous as she pulled out of the parking lot, Britney blasting on her speakers.

“Well..” you breathed, turning back to Elijah. “Twice in one night? To what do I owe my great fortune?”

He shrugged. “I have a thing for cheerleaders.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, are you serious?”

He laughed. “No, not at all. But I saw you from the stands and wanted to get to know you better. So here I am.”

You couldn’t help the huge smile overtaking your face. Elijah Mikaelson wanted to get to know you? 

“What about Jessica?”

He shrugged. “She’s a nice girl. Not really my type.”

“And I am?”

He huffed. “Am I not making myself clear? Shall I fetch a plane and spell it out in the sky for you?”

I shook my head, faux serious. “It’s nighttime Elijah. I’d never be able to see that.”

He snorted - actually snorted. It was the most adorable thing you might have ever heard. 

“You’re a minx, and you know it. Now agree to go to dinner with me.”

“Half price burgers at the grill?”

He smiled wryly. “No, that won’t do. I’m a full price kind of guy. I need candles, roses, the whole chair pulling out thing. Carlo’s. Friday night. Eight o’ clock.”

Carlo’s was like, ridiculously nice. And expensive. “But that’s-”

“It’s what?” he challenged. “Because if you’re suggesting I can’t afford it…”

You shook your head. “No, of course not. I’m sure you can. But I can’t!”

Faster than you could even fathom, Elijah was backing you up into the side of your car, his hands locked on either side of you, face inches away from your own. His eyes were dark and bore into you, making your palms begin to sweat.

“I’m not in the habit of taking women out on dates and having them pay.” His breath fanned across your face. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, and you shivered. His presence was intoxicating. 

“Have I made myself clear?” he asked, and damn if that question didn’t excite you. You nodded, your breath hitching, and he leaned even closer to you for a moment before pushing himself away.

“Good!” he declared, and once he backed off, he took a moment to rake his gaze across your body. Your uniform did little for the imagination, and you were kind of thankful.

“See you soon, Y/N.” He called sweetly, shifting from domineering to polite so quick you had whiplash. You watched him go, a dopey smile on your face.

“Wait!” you called. “Do you want my phone number?”

He paused, then reached into his pocket for his phone. He typed for a moment, then locked the screen and placed it back in his pocket.

Your phone dinged.

Tell Bonnie I said thank you.

You smirked. Of course Bonnie had given him your number. You'd have to remember to get her a thank you gift.

As you started your car and got ready to go, movement from the car behind you caught your attention in your mirror. You struggled to see clearly what it was, but when you did, you were shocked.

There, in the pickup truck Rebekah Mikaelson had gifted him, was Matt Donovan making out with her brother Kol. 

You laughed all the way home, imagining the look on Rebekah’s face when she finds out.

#plus size reader #plus size! reader #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x plus size reader #elijah mikaelson x plus size! reader #the originals #the vampire diaries #TVD #elena gilbert #bonnie bennett #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #matt donovan #kol mikaelson #fluff #cute #cheerleader AU #reader insert #chubby #chubby reader #caroline forbes #background klaroline #klaroline