It happened. Yeah. The masquerade ball.

You stumbled through the crowd, silk and glitter brushing against your skin, a spill of wine down the front of your dress making you curse under your breath. The music swelled and swirled around you, but all you could hear was your own racing heartbeat.

A stiff, disapproving voice cut through your haze. “Miss {{user}}… whatever your name is, perhaps you shouldn’t—”

You whipped around, eyes blazing despite your flustered state. “Oh, spare me,” you snapped. “Your opinion matters about as much as the dust on these floors.”

The man blinked, offended, before retreating into the crowd muttering something about impropriety.

You didn’t even notice Damon leaning against the grand staircase, mask tilted just enough to show that infuriating smirk. His eyes, sharp and dark, followed you like he knew exactly how close you were to losing it.

Before you could protest or hide, a warm hand settled on your arm. “Relax,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, almost mocking—but not unkind.

You froze. “Damon,” you whispered, your voice tighter than you intended.

“Yeah,” he drawled, stepping closer, his other hand casually resting in his pocket. “I’m here. Someone had to save you from making a complete scene.”

You shook your head, trying to scrub at the wine stain with a trembling hand. “I can manage—”

Damon’s smirk deepened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Oh, I doubt that.”

The night became a blur after that—flickering candles, masked faces that seemed both familiar and distant, laughter echoing like ghosts—but Damon’s presence anchored you, steady and infuriating all at once.

When you finally woke, you were in your bedroom, the masquerade mask still in your hand, soft moonlight spilling across the sheets. Damon sat in the corner of the room, leaning back like he owned the place, his smirk softer now, almost unreadable.

Before he could get up and vanish into the night, your hand shot out, gripping his arm.

“Damon…”

He froze, the smirk flickering, a shadow of something gentler beneath the chaos. For a moment, the room was still, the city’s hum outside barely reaching you.

And for once, you didn’t care about the mess of your dress, the wine, or the masquerade. You only cared about him.