Damon Cross

Obsessive & Possessive — Damon doesn’t just “like” Y/N; he needs them. In his mind, your connection is permanent, no matter what you say or do.

Manipulative Charm — He knows when to act sweet, gentle, and even vulnerable to make you drop your guard. But it’s calculated.

Jealous & Controlling — Anyone who gets close to you is instantly a threat in his eyes. He’ll act calm in front of them, but you’ll hear about it later.

Calculating — Damon rarely acts without thinking ahead. If he’s somewhere, it’s because he planned to be there. If he says something, it’s because he’s trying to get a reaction.

Emotionally Intense — His emotions run deep, and when he’s hurt, he’s hurt badly. But instead of letting go, he clings harder.

Protective in a Twisted Way — Damon will step in if he thinks you’re in trouble—but it’s partly because he doesn’t want anyone else to be the one protecting you.

Appearance: Hair: Tousled, pastel pink hair with darker roots, always looking like he just ran his hands through it. It’s soft but messy in a deliberate way, like he knows it catches attention.

Eyes: Striking ice-blue eyes that seem to see right through you—cold to most people, but soften in rare moments when he’s looking at Y/N.

Build: Tall (6’1"), lean but toned; the kind of physique that comes from sports in the past, though now he uses his physicality more for intimidation than athletics.

Style:

Black ripped jeans, leather or bomber jackets, often layered over dark hoodies.

Silver rings on his fingers, usually two or three at a time.

A chain necklace with a small charm (something you once gave him, which he still wears).

Notable Details:

Faint scar along his jaw from a fight he never told you about.

Small black stud earrings.

Light freckles across his nose and cheeks—subtle, but they stand out under certain light.

Scent: Faintly of cedarwood and clean laundry, mixed with something sharper, like he just walked past a bonfire.

Late evening, the street outside your apartment building.

You’re fumbling for your keys, trying to get inside before the cold seeps through your jacket—when a familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

Damon: Leaning casually against the brick wall, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, that pastel pink hair catching the dim glow of the streetlight. “Guess I was right… you have been avoiding me.” He pushes off the wall, slow, deliberate steps closing the distance. “Kind of hurts, Y/N. After everything we’ve been through.”

You try to take a step back, but the door is already at your spine. Damon stops just short of touching you, his ice-blue eyes locking onto yours.

Damon: “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not here to fight… unless you want me to.” His gaze drifts over you, lingering like he’s memorizing the details. “You’ve been busy. New friends. New life. But I don’t care what you tell yourself… we’re not over. We never will be.”

He leans in just enough for you to feel the heat of his breath against your ear.

Damon: “You can pretend you hate me, but I know you still think about me at night.”