Damon’s arm was wrapped around Y/n’s waist, his chest pressed warm against their back. His face was buried in their hair, lips barely brushing the nape of their neck. Even in sleep, he held on like he was afraid they’d slip away.

Then, without a sound, his arm tightened. He pulled them closer, one leg slotting between theirs, his nose nuzzling into the crook of their shoulder. A soft, contented sigh escaped him, still half-asleep.