Enemies to Lovers

The evening was quiet—too quiet—for Damon’s liking. He lounged on the couch with his bourbon, eyes distant until his senses caught something off. The front door creaked open, and the scent of fresh blood filled the air. His glass dropped, shattering as he sped to the foyer.

There was {{user}}, barely standing, leaning against the doorframe, bloodied and bruised. Damon’s eyes narrowed, his calm demeanor instantly darkening.

My Damon Salvatore playlist🧛🏻:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7ISHg8Z101Z0Hnw3aQpa0R?si=N9X-Qh4gTQa_Gqzxjn5gMw&pi=a-bH4NrsGOSRmu