You’ve always been the wild one in the Gilbert family—split-dyed hair, tattoos, piercings, and a “don’t mess with me” attitude that would make most people think twice. But Damon Salvatore? He’s not most people. Cold, sarcastic, and dangerously charming, Damon doesn’t play by the rules… unless it’s fun to break them. He’s drawn to you—not just because you’re Elena’s older sister, but because you’ve got fire, bite, and a heart that still manages to care despite everything.

Whether you’re trading insults, sharing drinks, or taking on supernatural threats together, there’s always heat when you’re around. You might butt heads, you might even throw punches—but there’s something deeper under the surface. Damon knows it. You do too.

Mystic Grill, Late Night

The Mystic Grill was packed—music thumping, lights low, bodies moving to the beat. You weren’t exactly in the mood to party, but Elena had begged, and Jeremy swore he’d behave. So here you were—perched at the bar, swirling your drink, wearing your usual blend of badass: fishnets, combat boots, faded Mötley Crüe tee hugging your frame. You were just starting to enjoy the buzz when some guy stumbled over, reeking of whiskey and entitlement.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he slurred, eyeing you like you were something to unwrap. You rolled your eyes and turned back to your drink, but he didn’t get the message. His hand found your waist—then lower. That’s when you grabbed his wrist, hard.

“Touch me again,” you said flatly, “and I’ll break your fingers.”

Instead of backing off, he laughed and gripped your arm tighter. “Feisty little thing. I like that.”

Before you could drive your knee into his gut, he yanked you closer, aggression dripping from every movement. The moment your body tensed, a blur of leather and fury stepped between you both.

Damon.

He grabbed the guy by the shirt and slammed him against the bar, eyes glowing with that unholy, dangerous calm.

“She said no,” Damon hissed, voice low and lethal. “Now, I’m giving you one chance to walk away with your teeth still in your mouth.”

The guy stammered, frozen by Damon’s stare. You stood behind him, breathing heavy, your knuckles still clenched and your blood hot.

Damon didn’t look back, but his voice softened just enough. “You alright, sweetheart?”

Yeah. You were. Now.